My Muse
by Kc495
Summary: He's a painter, who's desperate for companionship but has too much "baggage". She's a workaholic, and she's lonely, but her past has made her afraid of intimacy. - They met under rotten first-impressions, but after a run-in with some violent protesters, she's hired as his bodyguard, so they've got no choice but to get along. HikaruxHaruhi (Rated M for Lemons).
1. Prologue

**\- My Muse -**

 _Prologue_

* * *

"What were you saying?" Her voice purred. "About my _uncle_."

He furrowed his eyebrows, shutting and reopening his eyes. The alcohol was setting in, he figured, and today he wasn't tolerating it.

"You're _what_?"

She sighed. Skating her hand across his chest, her fingers tugged on his front buttons until they came loose, one by one.

"Mr. Fujibayashi. The vice president-" her nails scratched along his collarbone, "-of your father's company."

He wiped away the sweat forming under his brow. "What about him?"

She stretched her arm over his shoulders, her fingertips grazing over every mark and scar hidden under his shirt. "There must be a lot of pressure with being CEO."

"Not really." He huffed, rubbing his forehead. He had already shrugged off his blazer and threw off his tie, but the room was sweltering.

"That's amazing," She awed, slipping her hand between his buttons, caressing over his skin, "how you just started working under the company's name two years ago. I wouldn't have thought that... he'd think you were qualified."

His mind was elsewhere, otherwise, he would wonder why they were still talking about work.

"You're so flushed, Hikaru." She muttered. Feeling his cheek with the back of her hand. "Are you that excited already? We haven't even started."

"What?" He tried to sit up, but her hand eased him back down.

"And you haven't finished your drink."

He rubbed his eyes with one hand, as she pushed a cup into his other, cupping her fingers around his to hold it steady.

He held no obligation to protest, as she guided the rim of the cup to his lips. He shivered at the fierce taste of the warm champagne, but downed the entire glass.

"Good boy." She whispered.

He didn't move, as her leg slid over his lap. He put his hand down on her bare thigh, and felt himself melt into the sofa. " _Cheiko_ -"

Hikaru was cut off by her lip, and his words died in his throat. She moved her hand to his neck, and through his hair. His expression barely faltered as she traced her tongue over his teeth.

He felt the goblet disappear from his grasp, and moments later something shattered against the floor.

"Ah," she pulled away, just far enough to lick her lips. She tasted like his breath. "You really are something, Mr. Hitachiin."

He laid his hand at her waist, feeling her cold skin against his. He wanted to feel more of it. Suddenly it was the only thing that mattered. He wanted all of her. Every piece, and he just couldn't seem to get it fast enough.

His hands flew to the buttons of her shirt, ripping them away as fast as he could get them undone.

She sat on his legs. A smirk slicked across her doll features as he removed her shirt. She grabbed his face, distracting him from his main goal, and slammed her lips against him again. The hunger in her kisses were almost painful, but his mind was too disoriented to care.

He felt unconscious, but his hands kept moving, aching, searching for that little bit of relief that was always just an inch out of his reach.

Cheiko squealed into his mouth, as he maneuvered her bra, and groped her breast, using his other hand to pull her deeper into another awkward, wet kiss.

He was in charge on the outside, but he was in her clutches.

He lost grip of his better judgement. What he was doing was completely out of his control.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 1

**\- My Muse -**

 _Chapter 1_

 _Two weeks ago_

* * *

 _A picture can speak a thousand words._

 _Though a picture painted with a thousand words speaks so much louder._

He grasped the paintbrush between his fingers. The bristles were dipped in the product of the perfect mixture of blues and greens, and hovered just above the canvas. But nothing came of it.

 _How does a painting speak, when you have nothing to say to it?_

 _And what worth does it hold if it's speechless?_

He dropped the paintbrush in water an tried again, testing a darker color; this time in shades of brown and reds, mixed to a rich burgundy.

It's been two years since the public eye has seen, Hikaru Hitachiin. Before he was on every celebrity-gossip tabloid, and news article on social media. Nothing in his life was a secret. Reports knew where he had been and where he was going. No matter whether it was in a positive light or not, they published his name wherever they could get their grubby hands into.

But lately, it had seemed like he had faded into the background, and the community was over him like a trend. The only things of him the magazines wrote about now, was who's daughter he was spending the night with.

Beside him, there was a magazine in particular. It's headlines:

 _"Where is Hikaru Hitachiin, today"_

He used it to dry off his paintbrush.

He reached for a jar of his other paintbrushes, but he stopped, as a pair of warm hands managed to snake their way around his shoulders. Hot breath trickled down the base of his neck and he tensed.

"It's blank."

Hikaru looked up, glaring at his canvas, that was collecting more dust than paint. His eyes lowered to his jar of water, that had turned black from all the times he changed his mind.

"I'm working, what do you want?"

His brother, Kaoru, scoffed, as he cuddled his face into his hair.

"I came to check on you," he whispered, which sounded more like an excuse for something else. He tightening his arms around him, being the same height, his eyelashes fluttered against his ear. "Your nanny baled, so I decided to bring you breakfast."

Hikaru shrugged off his twin, and he slid off him like liquid, snickering at how unaffectionate he's gotten.

"What are you dressed like that for?" he grumbled, referring to the tight suit Kaoru wore, that stood out beside his loose white shirt and jeans. He looked at him up and down, almost disgusted.

Kaoru looked down at his fitted suit. His tie tucked neatly behind his pressed blazer and his shoes were freshly polished.

He feathered his hand over his slicked back hair, and fuzzed over a wrinkle in his pants, before he caught his brother's stare.

"Well excuse me for not dressing like a lonely hermit." He chuckled, tucking in his front pocket. "I have a _date_."

Hikaru frowned. "With _who_?"

"It's an arranged luncheon, so I'm not sure," he shrugged. "I'll see when I get there."

"You're trying awfully hard to impress a stranger." he muttered.

"I'm impressing myself," Kaoru huffed. "Why does everyone think that, when I put effort towards myself, it's because of a woman?"

"It wouldn't kill _you_ to clean up nice," he added dismissively. "Isn't that the outfit you wore yesterday?"

"Did you come here just to nag."

"I worry about you."

He rolled his eyes.

"You'll live," Kaoru leaned over, kissing his temple. "I brought your favorite. It's in the fridge."

"I don't need you to feed me all the time."

"If I don't who will?" he pouted, "You can't take your medication on an empty stomach. You got sick last time." Hikru grimaced, as his thumb traced over the dark circle under his eye. "Is that why you look so tired?"

He swatted him away. "I don't take them anymore."

Kaoru sighed, sinking away from him again, He watched as he turned his back to him, ready to follow him if he started to escape to the other side of the room. " _Oh_? I didn't know your doctor took you off of them. I should pay more attention."

"What do you _want_ , Kaoru?"

He shrugged, concluding that worrying about him was a lost cause. "Mother said you decided to go to Mizuma's gallery show this weekend."

Hikaru glared at the wall as he jerked the water on in the sink, to wash his hands, even though he hadn't painted anything, and his hands were still clean.

"What about it?"

"Nothing," Kaoru bit his lip, biting back the wrong words. "Are you... going alone?"

"Across _town_?"

"For four days," he defended, as if that justified the reason for the new stress lines on his forehead. "There's a wine venue that's having a grand opening on Monday. I have a conference meeting with the president of Dongfeng then, but his daughter will be there, and... I knew you were going so-"

Hikaru dropped the rag he was using to dry his hands on the table, that almost knocked over a tub of paintbrushes. "You didn't... _tell_ her I'd be there." He furrowed his brows. "Right?"

"Well... I might have _suggested_ your company."

"His daughter's barely _twenty_."

"Twenty-one."

"She's practically a _child_ ," he growled. "You're trying to set me up with her?

Kaoru held his hands out as if he was calming down a provoked, wild beast. "She was interested in you," he argued, "You were only going there to kill time, so I thought you two could keep each other company."

Hikaru's face curled in disgust.

"Not like _that_."

"I'd rather choke."

Kaoru lowered his gaze to a crack in the floorboards. He didn't know what he was expecting. He hasn't been able to get his brother out of the house for anything that wasn't related to work, and when he could, Hikaru closed himself off. He was convinced everyone was out to take advantage of him. He gave everyone the cold shoulder, and that eventually warded off the press. Reporters wanted nothing to do with him; the Paparazzi got bored of him.

Hikaru built a wall to protect himself. They had let go of that isolated world they created together, a _long_ time ago, but something in him just fell apart, and it ruined everything, and now he was in that world all alone.

And it broke his heart, knowing the only person who could really help him, was himself.

"She'll probably get bored of you anyway," he concluded, with another shrug. "You're so _old_."

"I'm not there to make sure she has a good time."

"Well... she is the daughter of one of mother's associates, so it would be nice if you _woo'ed_ her a bit."

Hikaru didn't reply. Instead, he sat down in one of his chairs and turned his back to him completely. He grabbed another rag, and started to clean off his paintbrushes.

"Mother's worried about you, too." Kaoru said quietly. "You should visit more often."

He didn't more from his spot, even after Kaoru bid him goodbye and shut the door.

Hikaru didn't say anything, and just continued to rub the paintbrushes, even though they weren't dirty. He had been so absent in painting, but so obsessed with the fact that he had been busy, his home studio was spotless.

After the wood of his paintbrushes were warm from his hands, he tossed them into a jar.

He looked up at the blank canvas. The fabric was so white that it reflected light from the window, and it was almost blinding.

After a moment of listening to the easel laugh at him in mockery, he decided he might not be ready to give up his medication just yet.

Without a second thought, he stuck his leg out and kicked it over. The canvas falling head first to the floor.

 _How could a painting speak, when it's painter is drowning in silence._

* * *

The elevator doors opened to a herd of impatient lawmen, and the accused. They were tapping their feet, yelling into their Bluetooths, or glaring at their watches. It was a busy Monday, and it wasn't sparing anyone. At 3 in the afternoon someone had already thrown their tie in the trash and walked out.

It had been such a long afternoon for them, that no one even bothered to bow to their superior as she walked past them, buried chin deep in her own work. They just sneered at her, before scrambling to get to the elevator's buttons first.

She was the only one in the office smiling, and the whole office was conspiring against her for it.

That's what she thought anyway, when the pile she was carrying crashed to the floor as someone bumped into her and all she got was a bitter " _Watch out_." in response, as if it were her fault that he lost his job.

"Haruhi!"

She gasped as a shoe stepped one of the papers she was trying to pick up.

"I'll take these for you," someone above her stated, and without warning, her file was ripped out of her hands. After seeing who it was, she quickly tried to take them back.

"N-no, it's okay! I-"

"Mr. Hokkai is having one of his fits again," her co-worker (she really wished she could remember her name), said. "Where are you taking these?"

Haruhi took her entire bottom lip between teeth as she watched her crumble her papers under her arm. "My... office, but-"

"Here," she passed her a cup of coffee as she was standing up, and she had to struggle just to not drop it. "He likes you more than me."

Before Haruhi could object, the woman was already walking away with her precious court papers, and she was stuck with a _'1# boss'_ mug in her hand while everyone in the hall stared at her.

Ah well... it _used_ to be a great day.

After having to go back to the crowded elevator, she stalked the hall, her fist white from clenching t handle of the mug. Just because she wasn't called out by their boss every morning, did not mean he liked her, and she didn't like him either. She was one of the company's most sought out attorneys, and he was the heir to _daddy's_ company. They simply tolerated each other.

The door to his office creaked wide open as she tried to quietly knock on it. He was sitting at his desk, pressing his finger to his earbud, nearly losing his voice over the other person on the other side of that phone call.

"hold on," he growled, putting the call on hold, and immediately turning towards her. " _What_?"

She gestured to the cup in her hand before setting it down in front of him. "Sorry to interrupt." She muttered.

"I'm busy, _Fujioka_ , make it snappy."

"I'm taking Misumi's case," she said. Years of working with criminals gave her a iron backbone, so his glares just felt like an inconvenience. "The one of the Furukawa's. I'll hand in my schedule tomorrow morning."

"The Furukawa's?" He scowled. Coincidentally, the information for that one was sitting fresh on his desk beside him. "But you're a _defense_ lawyer."

"Misumi left on maternity leave yesterday afternoon. She asked me to take it over."

"I'm not doubting your abilities," he said, as if it physically hurt to admit that. "Divorce cases aren't exactly in your expertise. You've never handled one _before_ , why would you now?"

That was true, and they were boring. She would rather work with drunk over a traffic violation, but she couldn't say, _no_. Especially when she had no other cases lined up and hasn't had one in over _four months_. She had taken it more so out of desperateness than actually wanting to help the woman who gave it to her.

"Because she asked me to." Haruhi answered.

"Bored of writing _wills_." He corrected.

"Don't sign me up for anything," she changed the subject. "I'm not going to juggle three cases at once like last time."

"I won't have to," he scoffed. "No one spends as much time with their clients as you do, Fujioka. With a divorce case they'll get so sick of you, and they'll fire you by Tuesday."

"Don't call me in until next week."

"I wasn't _going_ to."

After today, the last thing Haruhi wanted to do was come home to messy apartment, but that's exactly what greeted her as she opened the door.

She sighed and threw her bag in the hall closet, and stepped over a pile of dirty clothes. One would think that belonged in the laundry room. It was beyond her why it all had to be thrown out in the front room. It wasn't how _she_ left it this morning.

"Joichiro," she groaned, almost tripping over a PVC pipe. "Didn't I say to keep it in _your room_."

"Did you _say_ something?" a man's voice came from open door to the kitchen. "Also, you're _late_. I thought you were going to be back at _five_."

"I was working." She sighed again, exchanging her shoes for a pair of slippers. "I know it's late."

The man stepped out, showing his face from under a pile of freshly trimmed wires he so casually threw down on the floor. Because the floor was closer than the table.

His paint covered face curled in a pout. "It's _seven thirty_."

Haruhi grimaced, reaching over to brush dirt off his cheek. "And you look like you've kept yourself busy while I was gone."

While that wasn't the first thing he wanted to hear, he still grinned and grabbed her shoulders, directing her attention to his dirty shirt. "And guess _what_."

"Do I want to know?"

"Do you remember the gallery show I told you about?" He suggested. "It' Saturday."

"This Saturday?"

"Would I be telling you if it were _next_ Saturday?"

She cringed. "Do _I_ have to go?"

His face fell. Obviously not amused by her lack of enthusiasm that he honestly should have expected. "If you want to support your wonderful fiancée, then _yes_. Who _asks_ that?" He hesitated. "And... also _yes_ , because you're my ride."

Before she could say she honestly didn't want to and would rather spend her Saturday doing nothing, her mind directed it itself to the important subject of the matter. She forgot that this gallery was the most exquisite gallery show in Japan. One could only ever get inside the building every seven years, and the invitations were limited to the rich a fabulous. Painters brought their artworks to be auctioned at higher prices than her yearly salary.

So how did her fiancée, a struggling freelance artist, get himself an invite? Or even afford the entrance free?

" _How_?" Was the only word that managed to tumble out of her mouth.

Somehow he knew exactly what she was referring to.

"Ah, well," he cleared his throat. "I... may have borrowed from the savings."

She glared. "How much?"

"All of it."

Nothing came out of her mouth, and her mind completely shut down. How much was in the savings again? How much of that money was just thrown out the window? The numbers were giving her a pain in her stomach.

"That..." She started, but quickly shut her mouth. "Everything in the savings was for the _wedding._ "

" _Really_?" he pulled away, this wasn't the first time she told him this, but it was apparently the first time of his actually hearing it. "Why was there so much just for that?"

"Because your family lives in _Europe._ "

"Ah," he muttered, he looked like he was deep in thought, but she was wrong. Was she really going to marry this man in eight months?

"Eh." He shrugged. "They don't need to come."

Joichiro watched as five different facial expressions fought to stay on her face at once. His poor common minded fiancée. She was going to give herself high blood pressure again.

"Don't worry. After I auction off my painting we can afford the wedding, and honeymoon in Hawaii. " He said. "We can get a house and a _car_. You can even buy all that makeup your pretty friends always talk about." He pushed his finger against her nose.

She arched her brow.

"I promise you won't even notice it's gone."

 _'But you're a horrible painter'_ she wanted to say, but she managed to bite those words back, and save them for her pillow that she was going to scream into later.

After watching her expression ease, he grinned and lent down and kissed her cheek. "What's for dinner?"

* * *

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	3. Chapter 2

**\- My Muse -**

 _Chapter 2_

* * *

The sliding glass doors opened to the inside of, eighty thousand sq feet, 20 floors with pure paneled glass walls, and white marble floors, stuffed packed with over 600 employees

The lobby covered the entire first floor, filled with the clicking of the keyboards that were lined along the wall behind a counter, made of freshly polished mahogany. It would have looked impressive to the common eye.

In the corner, the receptionist of the tenth floor had dark hair pinned in a messy bun at the top of her head. Her pencil skirt was hitched up high above her knees, as her feet were perched on her own desk. She hummed along to the music that blasted in her earphones as she leaned forward, to paint the rest of her toes.

There was a soft ping, as she was just finishing the top coat on her picky toe. She looked up at her laptop, and an email flashed on the screen, sent from the employee's secret group chat:

 _"Time for work."_

It was a quarter past ten. She had been working for 2 hours already, but everyone in the office knew that work doesn't officially start until _he_ arrives.

Being on the tenth floor, she thought she might have time to settle back into her designated spot, but the elevator beside her chirped and she threw her legs off her desk so fast her chair almost fell backwards. She buttoned her shirt, tightened her hair in an awkward ponytail, and threw everything on her table into one of her drawers, just as he stepped out onto the floor, followed by a bustling co-worker, fumbling with a load of paperwork.

The receptionist cleared her throat, hunching behind her computer screen, hoping he wouldn't notice her.

And he didn't. He couldn't have cared less about her.

Hikaru stalked passed her, expression hard on his soft face. He came dressed in just a grey t-shirt and jeans and three hours late for work, but that hadn't even raised any eyebrows. He snapped at the man behind him, telling him to take whatever matters he had, to his secretary.

Not wanting to get anymore more on his bad side, the man backed up, back into the elevator.

The employee's who were standing idly in the hall, scrambled to get out of his way, and held their breaths until he passed them. The office always cowered under him, trying so hard for perfection until perfection turned horribly imperfect. There was even a rumor going around lately that if you looked at him cross-eyed, you'd be fired, but today he seemed tense, and the building was on edge

Hikaru slammed the door to his office so hard the wall of picture frames rattled. He unlooped his bag from over his shoulder and threw it on the floor in a heap beside his desk.

He fell into his chair and turned on his desktop, and...

 _Nothing._

Hikaru leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, bathed in complete silence again at last. His medication was tearing into him again, and his head was throbbing. Whether he was immune to his sleeping tablets now or he forgot to take them, he hadn't slept last night, and the chatter of the staff was echoing. He could still hear the buzzing of his car.

His fingers dug into the messy mop of his bangs as he stared at the ceiling, getting lost in the texture of the paint.

He melted into his chair, and must've fallen asleep, as his eyes didn't open again until his office door was thrown open, and his clock suddenly read _12:38pm._

His vision was so foggy from sleep, that he didn't notice who it was that entered his office until a hand slammed down on his desk, shaking a jar of pens.

He groaned into his hands. "I'm _busy_."

Daichi Fujibayashi, former president, and his father's favorite employee, looked down, past his scruffy, grey mustache. His face twisted in distasteful satisfaction. He was taller than him, and wider, and being the one to catch him in a less perfect light, made his eyes burn with a sick enjoyment. He'd jump on a chance to complain to the board.

"You look worse for wear," Daichi said. "Long night out?" he suggested.

Hikaru's eyes rolled up, but he didn't bother looking past his double chin. "What are you doing here, Fujibayashi?"

"To congratulate you," the man stated, showing off his white plated teeth inside his sour grin, "for being promoted to CEO after your father retires."

Hikaru looked at his laptop, opening a page document in another lame attempt to look " _busy_ ". "It's an inheritance, not a promotion."

Daichi hesitated, his lips twitching. "I'm congratulating your work. You've really made a name for yourself here in just two years. He wouldn't be giving up his company to just anyone. Even if you are his son."

"That's right," the chair squeaked as Hikaru sat back. "Because he _was_ going to give it to _you_."

"Is that why you're here?" he asked. "Are you _jealous_?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Daichi scoffed. "I couldn't care less about the position. Cleaning up after you will keep me busy _plenty_."

He knew it he shouldn't get angry. Because that's what he wanted. His eyes were just _begging_ to see him come undone at work again. After hearing that he was on medication, Daichi suddenly knew where to nudge him and what buttons to push. He liked talking to down to him, because he knew it made him feel inferior, and whatever made him feel weak, made _him_ feel stronger. He loved knowing how to control his emotions and how he behaved. He had him strung like a puppet.

Hikaru leaned back, kneading his fingers under the desk. "And if I _fire_ you?"

"You wouldn't last a week."

Hearing footsteps nearing the closed door, Daichi straightened up his straining blazer and took step back. Play time was over.

"One of these days you'll have to be in charge of the entire company," he muttered. "It won't just be you bossing around the board of directors, and keeping a seat warm."

Hikaru stood up, and walked to the other side of his office. Neither wanted to move out of the way first, so their shoulders clashed. Fujibayashi bore his heated gaze into his back, until the door finally opened, revealing Hikaru's secretary.

Her soft face grimaced, as she threw her eyes between the two of them. Her two least favorite people in the same room at the same time, and she could almost taste the sourness in the air. She tucked in a piece of her hair behind her ear and took a deep breath.

"Responses have come in from a few of the potential sponsors for the reverse project." she said, dumping her arm load on his desk, and with the same hand, pulled out a cup of coffee from the crook of her elbow. "They all denied.."

If that news affected Hikaru, he didn't show it, and barely spared the files a glance, but Daichi's face spilt into a nasty scowl, looking down at the files as if they were insulting.

"Reverse project?" he turned to Hikaru, who was shrugging his bag over his shoulder. "I wasn't aware-"

"It doesn't have anything to do with you," Hikaru said flatly. "You work under my father, _Fujibayashi._ You don't work for me."

He held his breath as little mister entitled stepped past him, resisting the urge to trip him, just to watch him fall.

Hikaru ripped his bag of his shoulder and threw it deep into the back of his trunk. At the very least, he worked only three hours, but if he had to stay any longer he was going to crack.

Ever since leaving his mother's company and transferring to his father's, his work life had been absolute hell, and he couldn't make himself stay an entire day.

His colleagues were old as dirt and recoiled from any of his ideas. Asking them to produce program updates was like asking them to shove their hands into a fire. It wasn't a surprise his father was ecstatic about him joining. His company was collapsing, and he was getting desperate.

In the fashion industry, he was competing with his brother for the spotlight, and their mother was too headstrong to give them too much of her work. While at Ito-Co, he was the prodigy, and had the chance his tech skill for something other than hack-proofing the designers computers. At Ito-Co, he could actually make a difference, and he knew it.

He shrugged off his jacket and threw it on top of his bag, adding to the messy pile in the trunk.

But people like Fujibayashi, was the co-founder of the company and as the former, future successor, he was obviously held himself high on his own, pretty little pedestal. Ever since Hikaru had taken his spot on the board of directors, he detested him, and made it a point to throw everything that came out of his mouth, out the window. If he couldn't turn their employees against him, he always managed to manipulate his father.

Either way, he always got _his_ way.

He slammed the trunk, not showing mercy on anything today.

"Hi, Hikaru."

He jumped, nearly dropping his car keys.

Cheiko grinned. "I was hoping I could catch you before your trip."

He barely glanced over his shoulder, only meeting her eyes for a second. "Well, you _caught_ me." He grumbled.

Cheiko was Fujibayashi's niece, but she was insanely more tolerable. One of the few tolerable people in the whole building.

He didn't know what her job was at the office, but she was always "secretly" assisting him with the new project he was trying to launch, and he found himself bouncing ideas off her once in awhile. She wasn't much younger than Hikaru, but she admired him, and she'd let him know it every time he breathed, which was refreshing from the old geezers who wouldn't give him the time of day.

But he could do without her following him around like a lost duck.

"You looked so cool at the presentation yesterday." She said, fingering the ID badge hung around her neck. "I...I'm sorry no one was really... enthusiastic about it."

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, turning his shoulder to slip past her. "It's not like I need their approval."

"Still... I know it's a little discouraging. Especially with my uncle giving you a hard time."

"He doesn't bother me." He lied.

"He's been apart of the company for a long time, so he's a little protective over it. He just wants to make sure you're ready to take it over-..." She stopped, horrified, by the strange look on his face. "W-which you _are_. I mean... I think you're going to be really great and-"

Hikaru waved her off. " _Thanks_."

She beamed, and watched as he opened his car door. "Actually, I was thinking... I mean, if you want to, we could... maybe get... coffee together sometime."

He flicked open his aviators. Not really paying attention to her anymore. "Yeah. Sure."

Her smile grew wider. "Looking forward to it."

"Uh huh."

He slammed his car door shut.

Normally, girls would shop for their wedding dress with their mother, sisters, or even their friends.

But seeing as Haruhi was lacking in every aspect in all of those, her two father's certainly weren't going to let her go alone.

Ryoji ripped the sample of a floor length, laced veil off the wall, eyeing it with a father's seal of approval before holding it towards his daughter's direction.

"I like _this_ one." He announced, his eyebrows slanted all the way down to the top of his nose.

Haruhi had to grab fists full of the skirt to dress she was wearing just to turn around. To which she found her father shoving his veil in her face, gesturing to her dress's lace, claiming that _they matched._

"You can't just grab the most expensive one on the shelf." She said.

"Yeah, but they match."

"They really don't."

"It matches this tiara, too."

"Put it back."

He grumbled, muttering under his breath that she had no taste, but she was too busy tugging awkwardly at the waist of the itchy gown, and fussing over the sleeve being too short and _lacy_. She hated lace but everything in this confounded store was shrouded in it, and her father was just about to have a love affair with the "antique" petticoat.

Ryoji rolled his eyes swatting her hands away. "Don't stretch out the silk. You look gorgeous."

She frowned. "The collar's too low. I feel like some parts of me are going to fall out if I bend over."

"Nonsense. It's supposed to be like that. " He said, walking around her pedestal, fluffing out her skirt to cover her ugly sneakers. "I do feel like something's missing though."

"It looks cheap." A voice blurted out from behind one of the dressing curtains.

A tall man, with short blonde hair, threw open the curtains, cloaked entirely in a white ball gown, diamond shawl, and long train veil, looking disgustedly unimpressed with everything in his boyfriend's hands. "Haruhi, what do you think about these diamonds?"

Haruhi wasn't surprised. She didn't expect anything less from him.

Koshino, and her father weren't married, but seven years ago he went from being "That cute guy at the bar" to "That cute guy who now lives with him" and later, while she was away at school in Boston, took it upon himself to find the papers and legally adopted her.

He also was the reason why her father opted to not wear anything too feminine anymore, because he wouldn't stop _stealing_ his stuff.

"That one's tacky. That lace look is way out of style." He huffed, ignoring Ryoji's defensive gasp. "Is this your grandmother's wedding? Your fiancée won't bat an eye at you. You need to _sparkle_."

"I wasn't looking for anything overwhelming," she argued, straightening the laced sleeves. "Besides, I can't afford anything on that rack anyway."

"But the one you picked out is so..." he cringed, rolling his head towards her modest, pale yellowish, previously owned dress, that was still hung over one of the chairs. "It's so..."

" _Ugly_." Ryoji said behind one of the racks. "It's ugly. It was ugly last week, and it's still ugly today."

Haruhi sighed. She didn't want to wear a dress in the first place. The white pantsuit was much more comfortable, and affordable, but once she suggested it, you would have thought she had asked them to not even attend the wedding. Her fiancée even said it made her look like a small man.

"You should have gotten a man who could afford a decent wedding dress." Koshino muttered, not so quietly, shimming out of his own dress, revealing his bare chest and trousers to the whole store. An old woman made it a point to cover her granddaughter's eyes. "Not that deadbeat," he continued, "who can't even buy himself a happy meal."

"Please don't talk about him like that," she said, though, she was used to it. "It's my dress. I don't expect anyone to buy it for me. He's already buying his suit."

"You mean _Mommy_ is buying his suit." Ryoji grumbled, "My daughter, buying her own wedding dress. I'm still processing this. I'm almost as upset as I was when I saw your engagement ring."

"Don't get me started." Koshino almost laughed. "That stale biscuit I choked on this morning had more taste than that piece of copper."

Haruhi looked down at her hand, twisting her ring around her finger. "I like it..."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he got it out of a candy machine."

"His friend said he spent hours picking it out." She defended, before closing the certain around her to change.

Ryoji tilted one of the mirrors back to try on one of the crowns. "Yeah, picking it out of his _cereal_."

She ignored him, and unhooked the dress before awkwardly shoving the giant gown into it's plastic. She reached for the next dress in line, that Koshino was more than happy to keep adding to, but the watch on her wrist started beeping.

She threw back on her clothes and stepped off the pedestal so fast she almost tripped. 'I have to go. Joichiro and I are going out of town tomorrow. I have to be back to back and clean the house before we leave."

Her father jerked his head around, holding two different necklaces. "Already?"

Koshino gasped, arms full with 3 dresses he deemed "wearable" for her to try on next. "Don't tell me that means you're settling for _that_ one?"

"I can't buy it today anyway," she said heavily. "I don't have the money right now."

"Money?" Ryoji raised his brow. "What about the savings? I'm sure you at least have enough to buy that."

She bit her lip, thinking about the empty savings account. "Yeah... Not really."

"It's fine," she said before Koshino could blurt something else out. "We've talked about postponing the wedding another year."

" _Again_?" They both almost choked.

"But you've already postponed it three times!" Ryoji exclaimed.

"You're right, it is fine." Koshino shrugged. "Gives you time to change your mind."

"They've been engaged for six years, you'd think if she was going to change her mind, she would have done that already." Ryoji said sourly, shrugging on both pairs of pearl necklaces to make him feel better, before reaching for the diamond earrings.

"I gotta go," Haruhi said. "I'll... call later when we get into Nagoya."

They both pouted as they watched her walk out of the room, then, they both looked towards the remaining dresses she hadn't tried on yet, figuring they might as well continue.

Koshino looked over towards Ryoji.

"Wanna roleplay?"

"Okay, but only if I get to be, Cinderella."

* * *

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	4. Chapter 3

**\- My Muse -**

 _Chapter 3_

* * *

The art gallery was towered four stories high and built almost entirely of tinted glass. The showcase lights threw themselves around the entrance, lighting the whole block in different shades of blues and greens.

One woman stuck her leg out one of the limos, and wiggled her fingers out the door, until her chauffer finally helped her out onto the sidewalk. Then, she screeched at him to get the umbrella, so the rain wouldn't mess with her "perfect hair".

But it wasn't until the rain had finally stopped that he finally showed up. It was almost a quarter to nine and being the prized guest of the event, he was incredibly late. And by the sullen look he gave the clock on his dash, above the rim of his aviators, he knew it.

After stepping out onto the red carpet laid under the narrow canopy, he tossed his keys to the unexpecting valet and sunk his fists into his pockets.

The bouncer didn't even have to ask for his ID and scrambled to open the door for him. He was the only person missing from the guest list and here, if you were a _somebody_ , you knew who _he_ was.

Just as Hikaru stepped through the entrance, his chest clenched, catching a familiar draft that smelt like sushi _hors d'oeuvres_ and too much perfume.

He had been here so many times before, but he had never paid attention to how it made his stomach turn.

Then again, he had never come alone, either.

"Ah, _there_ he is."

Just as Hikaru walked through the entrance, The owner, Mizuma, a short and stocky man, threw his arm around his shoulder, pressing himself up against his side. His face was glowing behind his mustache, claiming, rather loudly, that the party could finally get started.

Nobody in the room even looked towards in their direction.

"A bit behind schedule?" The man suggested, eyes still twinkling.

"I had other arrangements." Hikaru muttered. (Which was a lie. He idled in his hotel room just to _be_ late).

When Mizuma didn't remove his hand, he awkwardly shrugged him off, and straightened his vest in distain.

They weren't friends, but Hikaru was his number one _plus-one_ to any of his held events. He loved parties and making a big deal. He loved flaunting his money in front of people who also had _lots of money,_ and the Hitachiin's were the epitome of socialites and fortune. Hikaru in particular was always the life of the party.

Or he _was_ , the last time he saw him; _Four years ago._

"Where's that pretty girlfriend of yours? What was her name? _Airi_?" The old man asked, looking over his shoulder, gesturing Hikaru to follow him. "I was hoping she'd show with you."

Hikaru didn't reply, nor did he follow him, and left the old man just to ramble to himself as he wandered down one of the display halls. Muttering something about him "mentoring" and there being "big time reporters upstairs", which Hikaru made sure to make a mental note to intentionally avoid.

Along one of the aisles, opposite from the crowded hall, were paintings on the walls he hadn't seen before, hung above names plates of people he had never heard of. There was a bidding table under every painting, set up for silent auctions. As if people in their right mind thought they could actually _sell_ them.

Apparently Mizuma was trying something _new_.

The first painting he took his glasses off for was a bushel of gloppy sunflowers, hanging off the sides of unrealistically proportioned vase, in an unnatural light setting.

Whoever had painted it made sure that their streaky, bright blue signature took up the entire left side corner.

"Invitations extended a little too far this year." He mumbled, before hearing someone rather too close snicker behind his ear. He rolled his eyes at the sound of high heels clopping against the tile, and a thin ankle rubbing up against the back of his leg.

Her hand was slick, curving around his elbow, pulling the back of his arm close to her chest, so close her fresh perfume was rubbing off onto his sleeve.

"They said you were coming but I didn't think you'd actually show up." The woman said, breathing against his neck as she laid her chin on his shoulder.

Yoko Ishikawa, the second daughter of a wealthy furniture manufacturer. She was a model, and maybe owned her one line of makeup, but he couldn't remember.

She was friendly during their first meeting. She was intrigued by his art. She didn't know a thing when it came to painting, but with him she seemed interested to learn.

She was tall, and slim, dressed in a sleeveless skin tight ruched mini dress that hugged every invisible curve, standing almost at his height in her clear, five inch sandals. Face framed with large brown curls that ran down to the back of her knees. - She was beautiful, and the entire fashion industry was obsessed with them the entire 3 days they were together.

He liked her. At first.

It's a shame she wasn't the "commitment type" and only wanted in his pants.

She blew against his cheek, watching his face, feeling his shoulders tense. "Doesn't look like you want to be here though. Lucky for you I've been actually looking for an excuse to leave."

"I'm here for business," He admitted, brushing her hair away from his face. Though already having his personal space heavily invaded today, he was ready to leave now. "Not a one night _tryst._ "

Yoko shrugged. Couldn't blame her for trying. "Then it looks like you have you work cut out for you. They really let some interesting characters in this time."

* * *

After what seemed like ages, Haruhi finally found her way around and stumbled into the empty hall, which she had been trying to find for the last hour and a half.

Joichiro was so caught up in the "wonders of rich people" that he's barely even batten an eye at her since they arrived, and left her to her own devices, _i.e._ , left her alone in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by extremely tall people dripping of aristocracy who would rather on her than politely step the _other way_.

Men were dressed in black suits and ties, their hair slicked back or neatly combed, and the women, dressed in all different colors and sizes. Either in extravagant cocktail gowns or shimmery thigh high tubes that looked like lingerie.

While dressed in her last clean t-shirt and faded jeans, and having no idea what the different mediums were in paint, she felt horribly out of place and insanely under dressed.

She wasn't good at painting anyway.

She didn't even _like_ painting.

Just then, a man, too busy fussing over the cuff of his blazer, brushed against her shoulder. His large build almost sent her to the floor, but instead of apologizing, he snapped at her to watch where she was going, and made a smooth stride passed her, making sure he didn't let her touch him again.

"I paid ten thousand dollars for _this_?" She sigh, and threw herself against the wall, eyes moving around the room aimlessly until she caught sight of the exorbitant buffet table. To which she immediately perked up.

Finally Something in this building that was actually _worth_ something.

She went to it like a moth to a flame, cracking open the first pair of chopsticks she could find. Immediately digging into the cucumber sushi rolls.

Haruhi opened her mouth and was ready to completely stuff her face until she heard a woman, two sections down the hall start to cry crying.

She was in the same boat as her apparently, clothed simply with her hair in almost as big of a mess as her cardigan was.

The man next to her towered her in both height and confidence. His chopper hair untamed and poised with arrogance. Every feature of him looked sharp and sour. The only softness to him was the pair of sunglasses that hid his rotten expression.

"But," her nose stiffened, "I sold my car to be able to afford-"

"A sob story isn't going to sell your painting." He said coldly. "Your technique is _sloppy._ The picture itself looks like every mediocre West Coast piece of artwork from the seventies and you're a fool coming here." He paused, turning away from both her and her painting. "You'll get more for it by throwing it away and selling the frame as _scrap metal._ "

"You're wasting your time." He concluded.

The woman was so shocked, she didn't say anything. Not that he gave her a _chance_ \- He didn't give her another moment of his time.

He walked passed her.

Haruhi glared, straightening her back as she threw her food down somewhere on the table. His gaze was fixed ahead of him and didn't look like he was even going to look at her, but that didn't stop her anyway.

"That was _uncalled_ for."

Hikaru stopped. holding in a groan as he rolled head to the side, seeing another one of those _commoners_ a little too close to him. Considering her size, it was almost cute how hard she was trying to look angry.

" _Excuse me_?" He scuffed.

Even his tone made her skin crawl. "Have you ever heard of constructive criticism?"

He raised his brow, impressed that she even had the nerve to talk to him. "I'm sorry, _who_ are you?"

Haruhi almost choked. This man was so wrapped up in his own self-admiration that he was blind to whatever came out of his own mouth.

"If you're going to _buy_ the painting, you didn't have to say anything." She retorted.

He wanted to laugh, watching her nose turn red, but his eyebrows narrowed into a scowl. "I'm a _critic,_ it's my job to _say anything_ I want."

"I don't see how that justifies belittling someone," She said curtly. He wasn't used to being talked down to, and by the way his jaw tightened, she could tell he didn't like it. "How can you even criticize _art_ when everyone has an individual style? That guy over there literally painted just a circle and called it _art._ "

She threw her hand towards the painting at her side, gesturing to the price tag of the circle, which was put up for auction for over _thirty thousand dollars_ , trying to prove her point.

He barely glanced at it, before looking back at her unaffected. "If it's any consolation to _you,_ I told him it was cockeyed."

Haruhi discomposed, almost speechless. "Circles can't be cockeyed!"

He pulled at his glasses, ripping them off in exasperation, and Haruhi finally found that little piece of imperfection to him that she was dying for.

Without the glasses his face was pale was pale, and she could see the redness around his eyes, but the cold piercing of his eyes distracted her and made her feel two sizes smaller.

Demeaning words hung loosely off the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself.

He saw her in full color, she was short, but she held herself tall. Her round face glowed ivory and her eyes were a soft brown. Her brown hair cupping her cheeks. Compared to the other women, her efforts towards herself was laughable, and while she wasn't beautiful, he had to admit, she was kind of cute.

 _Kind of_.

Haruhi took a step back from the way he held his eyes on her.

Hikaru hesitated. "What's your name?"

" _Fujioka_."

"Never heard of you."

"I don't _come_ here often." She said curtly.

He looked towards her left, where another painting was hung. The entire canvas was painted in unblended shades of blue, with random streaks of white, making the red oval shaped, textured _tulips?_ stand out so much it was as if a preschooler painted it with melted crayon.

"Is that your painting?"

Haruhi turned, seeing Joichiro's painting. She almost wanted to say _no._

"It's my fiancé's"

"Your fiancée must be the loud mouth at the open bar, trying to sell that piece of trash."

" _Wha_ -"

"You people waste my time," he muttered, slipping his glasses back on over his nose. "Stop taking up space where you don't _belong_."

He knew exactly how to leave conversations with the last word, just like now, he knew she didn't know how to reply, so he walked off. Probably looking for his next poor target.

Haruhi didn't realize that she was standing in the exact same spot she had been, mindlessly picking at the random foods that were still on the table, until her drunken fiancée stumbled up to her. He took her chopstick and kissed her cheek.

Joichiro leaned into her, grinning, hugging her shoulder. "Have I ever mentioned how much I _love_ you?"

Haruhi took the napkin out of his hand and used it to wipe off the bright rep lipstick that was smeared across his cheek, before throwing it on the floor.

"We're _leaving_."

He frowned. "What for?"

She didn't reply, and just walked passed him, declaring that if he wasn't ready to leave yet then she was going to leave without him.

He wasn't, so she _did_.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, hiding behind the water fountain, Hikaru's phone vibrated with a text message and, fifteen unread emoji's

" **From** : _Kaoru_  
 **Message** : _Have you eaten?"_

He ignored it.

* * *

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 **I always appreciate your comments and support!**


	5. Chapter 4

**\- My Muse -**

 _Chapter 4_

* * *

Haruhi tried her hardest to not slam the door as she walked into the tiny hotel bathroom, but her fingers slipped. It had been a long time since she had let anyone get under her skin this way, but now, her hands were practically shaking.

She had sat next to cold, remorseless killers, and wouldn't make a sound, yet all this man had to do was look at her funny for her to lose her composure.

Haruhi sunk into the bath, but the water wasn't nearly hot enough to ease the knot in her shoulders. She held her breath, sinking lower until the water was grazing her ears. She was angry, and and no amount of that "fancy" tuna made it remotely worth it.

She was angry their entire saving was blown on one horrible evening.

She angry no one bought Joichiro's painting, like he said they would, though not that she was surprised.

She was angry that she was pushed over and stepped on, and disregarded as nothing more than commoner trash, and she was angry that Joichiro chose to stay with _them_ than come home with her.

Haruhi laid her head back staring at the discolored paint on the ceiling, bringing her knees to her chest. Thinking about the wedding dress she had to leave at the store, and trying to calculate in her head how long it was going to take to save up enough money again.

The water had gone cold around her before she got out. She brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into a wet, clumpy mess on top of her head and finished the first quarter of her book she was reading before turning out the light.

She laid awake for another hour but Joichiro still wasn't back yet.

It wasn't until 2am that he finally stumbled through the door in the dark, dumping his things near the small closet, throwing his shirt off, and leaving it to hang off the nightstand. Haruhi was jerked awake when he flopped down on the bed, awkwardly flinging his arm over her chest.

He reached over, mumbling something under his breath as he planted a messy kiss against her temple.

Haruhi sighed, then went quiet as he tossed and turned into a more comfortable position.

Except now, with him pressed against her side, holding her arm and one leg thrown on top of her, she found it hard to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Hikaru had wasted the entire afternoon loafing around his hotel room. If he wasn't sleeping, he was trying to communicate with the foreign CEO, who had requested one of his paintings. His _potential_ buyer.

But as he sat now, perched on one of the leather bar stools at the newly opened Winery, below his hotel, caressing the condensation around his glass, and his buyer being two hours late, he realized he'd been _had_.

This had all been a waste of effort and his entire weekend, and all he had to show for it was an empty bottle of Excedrin.

His brow twitched, feeling drunk fingers twisting the hem of his shirt. She got bold and touched bare skin, and gave rough chuckle when he swatted her away.

Saori Dongfeng, the woman his brother somehow convinced him to " _keep company_ ". There was obviously some form of misunderstanding and apparently thought she was given a new play toy.

"You're no fun," she heaved, slipping a bored glance towards her phone before slipping it into her pocket before he saw. "We should go somewhere. I'm free all night and it doesn't look like you have much going on either."

Hikaru shrugged her hand off his arm. " _I'll pass_."

"At least have one drink," she urged, pushing her own glass in front of him. "You're upset that guy didn't show up, aren't you? Forget about it. You don't wanna sell to an American _anyway_. He was probably going to hang it up in his bathroom, or something."

He ignored that, and after another few failed attempts to get his attention, Saori caught the eye of a male waiter, serving Yakitori skewers and ran off with him before Hikaru could ask where they were going. Not that he bothered or cared.

He had been fussing the entire night that she leave him alone, but now that he was actually alone, he felt that wrenching tightness in his chest. The three people sitting beside him sounded like ten, and a quick twist in his gut made him sick to his stomach.

Hikaru pushed his glass of water to the side and didn't think twice before taking Saori's discarded glass of Brandy.

It didn't get half way to his lips before a hand softly overlapped his around the glass and guided it back down to the table.

He sighed, seeing who it was, cursing himself for not being more aware of his surroundings.

Warm eyes followed his hand as he jerked it away. Before they quietly took a seat beside him, watching his movements closely.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Cheiko said, resting her bare elbow on the island, brushing her cheek with the back of her finger, "I know it's fancy, but I didn't take you as the clubbing type."

He was still looking in his empty hand, almost wishing he was alone again. "I'm here for work." He said.

She smiled. " Is it a client? How is that going?"

Cheiko watched him reach for his Brandy again, so she was going to assume it wasn't going so well.

"I see you're alone," she murmured, aside from the waitress giving him suggestive glances. "I was wondering, maybe we could talk about the project. I actually... have some things on my mind about it."

"Since you're here for work." She added.

Well it was obvious that his client wasn't going to bother showing up. He shrugged, and looked up at her. Her smile faded when their eyes met, and she looked kind of... tired. Kind of a mirror image of himself, but he didn't care to ask what she actually had on her mind.

"Not here." He said.

She smirked, hoping he'd say that. "I have a room upstairs." She suggested.

It was decided where'd they'd go before he actually agreed, and no longer then ten minutes, they were standing in front of the door to her hotel room. Hikaru's hands were tucked tightly in his coat pockets, as he stood off to the side, watching her fumble with her card key, trying to unlock the door.

After watching her try three times, he took the card from her hand and flipped it upside down, shoving it into the slot.

As the light turned green, her cheeks flushed an awkward color of pink.

"S-sorry," she stammered, swinging the door open. "It... It's been a long day."

"I didn't know you had business in Nagoya. You didn't say." He muttered. Or, maybe she did and he just wasn't listening.

"Something came up," Cheiko hesitated. She hung her purse on the coat rack, and immediately went to the kitchenette, grabbing two glasses off the counter. "So um..." she started again, eager to change the subject. "I was thinking about the project..."

Hikaru threw himself on the sofa, already blocking her out into the background, as she stuttered through her words nervously, pouring them both a drink. He drug his finger along the arm of the couch. Noting the poor fabric choice of it for the backdrop of the room.

He was drifting into his own world until he heard her finally get to the point of what she was trying to say.

"A _what_?" He grumbled, looking at her as she sat next to him.

"A conference meeting." She cleared her throat. "I think... It might be a good idea to hold one. For the Reverse Project. Your presentation for the new video game launch was... amazing. I think if you presented the new Computer Line like that, it might help get sponsors. People do it all the time."

"There's a big difference between showcasing a video game at a convention, and deliberately asking people for money."

"I guess." She frowned.

After a few moments of silence, choking on the dense air between them, Cheiko reached over the cocktail table and grabbed the two glasses of champagne.

She paused, staring hard into his glass, tightening her lips.

She took the spoon out of his glass and handed it to him with a stiff hand. "Anyway, I... I don't mean to pry, but I know that you're having a hard time with money."

Hikaru stopped his glass mid-air, tilting his brow down to the bridge of his nose. She knew an awful lot about him for it to be a coincidence. His debt wasn't exactly common knowledge. No one knew besides him family.

And The Fujibayashi's knew a little _too_ much.

He glared.

Cheiko turned and her breath caught in her throat as Hikaru leaned into her. She held her glass close to her chest, hoping he didn't hear how loud her heart was beating.

"You didn't really bring me here to talk about those laptops, _did_ you?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. A chill ran down her spine as his lips hovered just inches from her face.

"No." She admitted.

His eyes narrowed, as her hands tightened around her cup. "What do you want?"

Cheiko swallowed, feeling her skin grow increasingly hot under her clothes. "I just... want to talk."

He said nothing as he started to lean away.

"About my _uncle_." She finished.

His lip curled. He'd rather talk about his debt. In fact, he'd rather talk about anything else, besides her uncle.

"I didn't come here for that kind of business." He answered coldly.

"I want to know-" she breathed, pulling her legs beneath her, keeping an eye on how much of that champagne he was really drinking. "-what you plan to do as CEO."

She shivered as he downed the entire cup.

He pressed his empty glass into her free hand, moving his eyes from the slit in her shirt, up to her bottom lip she was biting. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

She noticed the dark hue in his eyes. He did look truly evil. It made sense how he got his office nickname "The Devil" and she had a feeling his intentions were going to reflect it.

She refilled his glass and pressed it back into his waiting hand. "It's just... Some of the older directors are... anxious."

"They should be," he agreed. "Once I inherit the company, I'm starting fresh, and firing every s _ingle_ one of them."

Her eyes widened. " _All_ of them?"

"They've been there longer than the buildings been standing." He said simply. "Most of them don't even know how to use an external hard drive. My father said it's smart to work with the company's seniors, but they're useless to me." His glass couldn't hold enough alcohol for how fast he was drinking it, and soon, his cup was empty again. It was starting to make her uneasy.

"I'm cleaning house the first chance I get, and hiring the new graduates from Ouran Academy's tech course." He locked eyes with her, making sure to get a good look at the expression on her face. "Your uncle will be the first person I let go."

She wasn't surprised like he thought she'd be. She only nodded, as if it was exactly what she expected him to say.

Expect this time, she didn't hesitate to refill his champagne.

"I'm sure you're doing what's best." She muttered quietly, after awhile.

He didn't hear her. He was too busy trying to collect his thoughts. All of a sudden, he was finding it hard to focus.

He looked down at the alcohol in his hand. Thinking he probably should have listened to Kaoru.

Cheiko saw that window of hesitation, and uncertainty in his face as he decided against finishing the rest of his third glass, and started to lean into his side, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach.

His better judgement was hanging on a loose thread, and all she had to do was lift the bottom of his glass with her finger for him to guide it back to his mouth.

"So..." she took glass away before he could finish it, her face so close to his, he could feel her breath against his lips.

She grabbed his hand, placing it boldly on her thigh. "What were you saying about my uncle?"

* * *

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 **I always appreciate your comments and support!**


	6. Chapter 5

**\- My Muse -**

 _Chapter 5_

Present Day

* * *

He was out cold, until he finally noticed the ringing in his ears. He woke up in a cold sweat on the floor, calm until he realized, he had no idea where he was. His shirt was gone, broken glass scattered around his feet, his hand covered in blood.

He turned onto his side, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He hid his face in his arm, his eyes pinching way his migraine.

Then his stomach turned.

Hikaru stumbled into the bathroom, his stomach tight and his heart twisting into knots in his chest. His hand covered his mouth, before he threw himself over the sink, afraid he'd puke, but all that came out was a wet, raw cough.

He choking on the air that caught in his throat, as his heart pounded tattoos into his ribs. He felt it in his stomach, and heard it in his ears. He tried holding his breath, to slow his raging pulse, but went lightheaded and nearly fell over.

He ripped the lever on the faucet, and on stuck his hand under the running water, splashing his face, rubbing his wet fingers in his forehead, and over his eyes, before he jerked his hand away, with a gasp.

Looking down, the sink was filling up with water that was tinted red. Blood ran down his wrist, from the swollen, open cut that ran through his palm. He lost his footing and he staggered back, falling into the wall, almost falling into the bathtub.

His eyes flew to the mirror and saw the look of horror on his face.

He pulled at his cheeks. The dark circles under his eyes seemed darker, his pale skin looked grey. He didn't recognize the person he was looking at. Fear bubbled in his chest, like he was staring into his own death.

He was shaking, as he pulled his arms round himself, trying to hold himself together before he'd start falling apart.

Small bits of his memory swam around in his mind in pieces. He couldn't remember who he was with, how he got here. He couldn't even remember leaving the bar.

 _What happened last night?_

* * *

Kaoru paced streak marks into the floor, chewing his bottom lip then biting his nails. He stopped, perking up like an excited puppy, but after a moment, no one came through the front door and he turned back to biting his nails.

He baled early on his mother that day. He was supposed to start looking through agencies for models to use in Hitachiin Co.'s upcoming fashion show. It was the first one where his mother was giving him the reins, and letting him do everything on his own. They were his designs, his models, his venue of choice. He wouldn't even so much as let her pick the decorations for the after party.

It was going great, he had been so invested, working until dawn most days, but today, he dropped everything, and instead of going to work, went straight to his brother's house. Hikaru hadn't answered any of his calls since leaving Friday, and he was only supposed to be gone until Monday night.

It was Tuesday afternoon now, nearly four o-clock, and he hadn't gotten a single text message, aside from Saori, who sent him a vague report of what Hikaru was doing last night. Apparently the foreign art collector never showed up, and Hikaru wandered away from the bar with, as she said: _"Some random girl. Probably a fling."_

With a heavy sigh, Kaoru threw himself into one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Then tensed, as his phone buzzed with a message, and almost fell out of his chair trying to shrug it out of his pocket. But it was just his mother, asking him for sketch samples.

He shoved the phone back into his blazer and slumped over the island, in pout

He hid his face in his hands. Rubbing his fingers into his temples. He knew he shouldn't worry. Nothing could happen in a day. Hikaru was probably fine. He could take care of himself for a weekend. He was fine. _Right? of course... Kaoru, stop thinking so much._

He laid on his hands, rubbing his fingers into his temples. It was easier said than done. He felt sick. What if Hikaru accidentally took too many pills? He's done that once. What if he drank at the bar? and lost his car keys and was stranded somewhere? What if he was _lost_?

Then, something tapped his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Whiskey?"

Kaoru turned, glancing down at the large pickle jar full of stolen alcohol that was tilted towards his face.

"What's _wrong_ with you?"

"I'm drunk."

" _Why_?"

Miako shrugged. "Your pacing was making me anxious."

He ignored her, just to look back at his phone. Miako was an older woman, though she never really told him her age, so he wasn't sure how old, but apparently "old enough to be his mother" and yet young enough to try and seduce him when she was feeling "frisky". She was Hikaru's "nanny" that Kaoru hired over a year ago, but the old hag was more good for raiding the fridge than she was cleaning the house or cooking. And she made the worst fried egg. It was poison. He'd call _child-protective-services_ on her if his brother wasn't a grown man.

He'd have fired her already too, if she wasn't the only maid his brother has remotely gotten along with. _Shame._

He scooted away from her, sulking as he flipped through his phone. "Saori said his client never showed up at the bar that night." He muttered. "But she never said where he went afterwards."

"That's what you get for hiring that girl to spy on your brother," Miako tipped the pickle jar back, drinking the last of its remnants. "She probably ran off to play hooky with some boys."

"I didn't pay her; she _owed_ me a favor." And he was seriously regretting it. Despite Hikaru's many issues, he learned to handle responsibility rather well. When he convinced his brother to "Keep a pretty girl company" he thought he would at least stay near Saori until it was time for him to leave, but if he ran off with someone else, maybe he found out he was given another " _babysitter_ " and grabbed the wrist of _some random girl_ as an excuse to leave her sight as soon as possible.

Miako reached over to refill her jar, and Kaoru was about to rant about the dirty dishes that she left piled in the sink, but he got distracted by the front door being slammed shut. He jolted up, and waited for those inconsistent footsteps to come round the corner of the foyer. He heard bags being dumped on the way. They were followed by a nasty curse word and knew it could only be one person-

"Hikaru," his worry solidified into a choke when he finally saw him, "you're ba-... _oh my God_."

Hikaru stumbled into the room, letting his laptop bag slide off his arm into an abandoned corner just as he was shrugging off his jacket. Leaving everything in random piles behind him.

Kaoru slid off his seat, watching him in a strange mixture of disgust and concern. To no surprise, he was wearing the suit he picked out for him to wear Monday. His white shirt was wrinkled and loosened at the top three buttons. His hair was a greasy mess, sticking up at odd ends, telling him he probably didn't shower.

He dropped whatever else he had hanging on his body, shifting across the floor as if he was lifeless, until he collapsed into Kaoru's arms, nearly knocking him down.

Kaoru gasped, clinging to him, being the only thing keeping him from falling over. He put hand to his hair, feeling him sink his face into his neck. "Hikaru… are you okay?" Having no filter, his voice broke like he was about to cry.

Hikaru only hummed, holding onto him as tight as his arms around allow him, barely able to hold himself up any longer. He was hoping he'd come back to an empty house, to be alone, but after that morning, pressed up against something familiar felt nice, and Kaoru's arms were almost drifting him back to sleep.

"You sounds terrible." Kaoru strained, cringing at the sound his brother made against him. "And… you smell funny."

"...Hungover." He grumbled.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Kaoru blurted out, which followed by a muffled 'shhhh', but rather than letting him go to reprimand him, he shifted just little, to hold him tighter. "Hika, I _told_ you-"

"I know."

"You were supposed to be home yesterday." He frowned. "I was… worried about you."

"Sorry."

Kaoru leaned back, to lift the glasses off his twin's face, then, tossed them onto the countertop as if they were trash. Hikaru winced against him, and the wretched sunlight, but his brother didn't give him a lot of room to move away. With one look into his bloodshot eyes, Kaoru inhaled sharply, feeling his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

He grabbed his face. "Miako, call the doctor."

She opened a bag of chips. "No."

"What'd you mean, _no_?"

Hikaru pulled his hands away. "I'm fine."

Kaoru tried to hold on to him. " _No_ you're _not_. What happened? You should have called me."

He managed to push himself away, suddenly feeling a strange surge of guilt as he watched a pained expression curl in his brother's face. He always got like this. He'd worry if he saw him in the same outfit two days in a row. He'd worry if he skipped a meal. He'd worry if he slept in too late. Kaoru would worry if he was five minutes late for work. He wasn't sure if he could help it, or if it was a subconscious habit, established after years of close-calls, but he couldn't help feeling insanely repentant, even if this _was_ an accident.

Hikaru stroked the back of his finger against his cheek, where he could tell he was biting it.

"I'm okay... _really_." He mumbled quietly. "Go home, Kaoru."

"But…"

"I'm going to bed."

Hikaru stepped away unsteadily, and Kaoru hesitantly looked down to glance at his watch. He was supposed to be at an interview for a magazine article in half an hour, but he didn't feel right until he heard Hikaru grumble that he was fine one more time, so he could at least have the chance to make sure he got to bed alright, or didn't stumble down the stairs.

His phone started to buzz again with another text message from his mother, asking what was taking him so long with those sketches.

He turned to Miako. "Keep an eye on him."

She pointedly shoved a handful of chips into her mouth. "I probably won't."

"You are literally the worst."

* * *

Of course, as if the entire world was conspiring against her, the day they got back from their expensive and agonizingly pointless trip into Nagoya early that morning, Haruhi was called into work. And for what? Because some old man decided to have an affair and wanted to write his not-so-secret lover into his Will.

She fumbled with the hoard of keys she shrugged out of her pocket, and shoved the small silver one into the keyhole of the apartment door. Of course, her boss decided that she would be the best fit to accommodate the old man, even if there was an entire building full of attorneys, capable of handling it themselves. Then again, it was overtime pay. They needed it.

Rolling away a knot in her shoulders, Haruhi pushed open the door with an inwardly groan. Already untying her tie from around her neck, and pulling off her blazer. She was still running on the same four hours of sleep since yesterday evening and was now barely aware of her surroundings.

A wandering neighbor waved at her, but she was too busy fumbling the bags of groceries in her hands, that she didn't notice. She leaned up against the door, trying turn the knob, but the second she had the chance, it disappeared out from under her hand and she almost fell into the doorway.

Joichiro stood in front of her, sticking his nose out. "You're _late_ again."

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't be if you went to the store like I _asked_ you to. I would have been back an hour ago."

He mockingly rolled his eyes to copy her before taking the grocery bags from her, in an obnoxious attempt to look helpful, before kicking the door closed with his foot. "Well now that you're home-"

"Order something for dinner." She snapped before he could even ask.

" _Not_ what I was going to say," Joichiro huffed, but he wasn't the one to drag on an argument. "Actually," he grinned, "I have exciting news," then, promptly tossed the groceries somewhere on the couch. " _Sit_."

Haruhi was too tired to protest as her fiancée drug her across the room to the table, where he slumped her down in the closest chair, practically bouncing on his toes. She had refused to speak to him since they got back from their trip, save for a few words as breakfast that morning, because of how careless he treated their life savings, and frankly, everything else for that matter, but he seemed to know just how to take advantage of the fact that she couldn't stay mad at him.

"So," he started, not even hesitating on his "amazing news", but waited to make sure she was comfortable and had no ways of running away. "You remember the gallery show?"

As if she'd forget _that_ mistake.

"What about it?" she grumbled.

"Well I don't know if you met her-"

"Probably not."

He frowned at the interruption before waving her off. "What was her name? Airi, I think. Well guess what? She's an architect. I met her at the gallery that night right before you left. She says she's pretty involved with painters in the community. She's helped a lot of famous ones. One of them was at the gallery that night actually. I think you met him."

Haruhi looked on, unamused. "Is she that girl who was rubbing her lipstick all over your face?"

"Ah, no. Not her..." he paused again, trying to remember that girl, but of course he was incredibly drunk that night, so he couldn't really remember a whole lot. Honestly? What girl? he was pretty sure Haruhi made her up. He'd never do something so scandalous like that. "Anyway, she invited me to a party Friday, to discuss a _business proposal_."

She raised her brow, waiting for him to continue. "Proposal for what?"

"I'll find out." Joichiro shrugged, before excitedly taking a seat beside her. He took her hand that she was starting to lean on and held it tight under his chin. "She said she could help further my career."

"And she said it's very restricted." He stuck his chest out as he added. "The party's at that really fancy bar we passed going down there. The one where you said " _Why would they pay so much to go there when alcohol is the same price everywhere else_?" and I said " _Because it's fancy alcohol?_ " Remember that one?"

Haruhi tilted her head back, rubbing the kink in her neck. "Vaguely." She muttered.

He frowned. "I'm not feeling your excitement. Haru, this is big."

She snatched her hand back, and crossed her arms, giving him her stubborn 'Haruhi knows best' look he saw way too often, that he couldn't hold back his groan. "That's in three days. We can't afford another trip like that. There's no way you'd even be able to get there, must less come back and what-" She stopped when he pressed his finger to his lips.

"I'll handle that love, don't worry." He winked, watching in bemusement as her eyebrows started to tilt down to her nose. "This is the first time I've felt like I'm actually getting somewhere. I know the gallery show was..."

"A _disaster_."

"Not what we _expected_ ," He corrected. "But! I promise, in six months, tops, we could get the money back with our paintings. People won't buy your stuff if they don't know who you are. There's people out there who can get us recognized."

Haruhi looked back at him as he pulled his hand away. He was watching her for a positive reaction, but she still had a gut feelings everything was just going to fall apart like the gallery show. Just like all his attempts at sudden fame and fortune. And after almost six years of painful, bankrupt worthy failures, she had a hard time relying on anything he said anymore.

Looking at her fiancée's ' _puppy eyes_ ' she remembered that so-called famous art-critic she had the unfortunate luck in meeting that day. They all turned their noses up at her, pushed her around and made her feel inferior, but the way _he_ looked at her, as if she was nothing more than a piece of garbage stuck on the bottom of his shoe. Made her stomach churn. She hated it.

"I don't... like these people." She said softly.

"You're thinking too much into it." Joichiro assured.

Then, he leaned over, and pressed his lips to her cheek, kissing her before whispering in her ear, asking for her card to order takeout. Only kissing her cheek again when she gestured to the couch. She was too drained to say anything else, but he knew well enough that she was pointing to her purse.

Haruhi threw herself back into her chair once he trotted away, and hid her face in her hands, trying to block out his whistling.

 _Wonderful_.

* * *

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	7. Chapter 6

**\- My Muse -**

 _Chapter 6_

* * *

Creeping around the liquor cabinet, not bothering to be secretive, Miako pulled out three different bottles, mixing the Gin, Tequila, and Brandy in a dangerous combination into her giant jar, before she slumped don over the island.

 _A straw? No. Straws are for wimps._

She tilted the jar, drinking back almost half the concoction, and slammed it back down onto the counter, as if she were some entitled ruffian at a pub. It didn't even hit the spot anymore.

"You're out of the good stuff." She complained.

Hikaru and sitting only a stool away, but he ignored her, only glancing away to watch her pour lime juice into her cup, feeling his own soul escape his body as she chugged it without even flinching.

"This is good for those withdrawals." She droned roughly.

"I don't want your heart attack." He defended, leaning away from her breath.

Miako shrugged, she didn't really want to share anyway.

It had been a week since he had gotten back from the winery, and things had been strangely quiet at the office. Neither Fujibayashi or Cheiko had bothered coming in, and he hadn't seen either of them since the Friday he left. It was peaceful, especially without that _old man_ breathing down his neck, and for once, he could manage a full day of work, but today, he simply just wasn't _feeling it_. Which was the excuse he gave his father before opting out this morning.

He turned at the sound of Miako lighting a cigarette.

Not that staying home to lounge was any _better_.

Before he could complain that the least she could do was _open a window,_ the front door opened with an infamous swoosh, that could really only belong to one person, and they made their obvious presence known when their arms slid around his shoulders and pressed theirs lips against his cheek in a soft, prolonged kiss.

"Are you okay?"

He scoffed. "Were your senses tingling?"

Kaoru pulled back, flashing his a reticent smile from over his shoulder. "Yes," he grinned, smugly over something he should really be embarrassed by. "And I got this feeling you might be hungry, so I brought you breakfast."

"And," he dropped a pile into his lap. "Grabbed your mail on the way in."

"How generous."

"Aren't I just?" he winked, but his smile fell into a pout and, as if his twins sudden silence was a plea for consolation, he hugged himself against him even tighter, hiding his face in his hair. "You must've missed me. Were you lonely?"

Hikaru tried to shrug him off but like a magnet, Kaoru was stuck to him. "It was only two days."

"I've just been really busy, what with the preparations for the fashion show an all, I can barely get away anymore. Mother's really making me do _everything_."

"It's your debut. You'd be fussy if she wasn't."

Kaoru hummed into his neck. "Probably."

Used to this overly dramatic display of affection, the bluntly ignored Miako gestured her hand towards the sink full of dishes. "I told you I made breakfast."

Kaoru's face curled, looking at the slop in a pan on the stove, arms still around his brother. "Which is why I brought good breakfast. That? That is poison. Hikaru, don't eat that."

And while she wasn't looking, plucked the smoking cigarettes out of her hand and tossed it into the ashtray.

"If he gets wrinkles, I'm suing you."

Hikaru sighed, suddenly overcome with his new found invisibility as they argued, and started to mindlessly flip through the pile of mail. Mostly tabloids, covering this weeks disgusting celeb drama, with stolen, blurry images and badly blown out-of-proportioned lies, and an artist digest, full of bios from self proclaimed painters and their "get rich quick" advice that made him want to hurl. But, found a fashion magazine hidden within the garbage, with "Fashion's New Face" printed on the cover.

His brother, draped in a custom, one of a kind suit, posing in a lean against a bare mannequin, basking in the camera light and glowing in all the personal glory. Ever since he left the fashion industry, Kaoru had shrunk into the background, working only behind the scenes, never have worked alone before, and even refused solo photo shoots.

But for his debut as, indeed, the new face of fashion, he could see the hidden, and quiet muster of courage and confident on his twin's serious face that the critics deemed " _Sexy_ ".

Hikaru moved the magazine away as if it were delicate, but stopped as a lone envelope fell out from between the pages. He was about to discard it as unimportant when he caught his eye on the hideous word 'Important', stamped on the front, in bold, bright red letters. _Ah, so this is what Kaoru meant about late fees... What a bother._

Curious, as he ripped it open Miako decided to mute Kaoru's on going complaints and demands of her and tilted her stool back, to sneak a look at the letter that sudden spread a look of shock on his face.

She was too drunk to bother reading the fine print, but the subtitle was enough to make her choke back a boisterous laugh.

She swung back her giant pickle jar of alcohol. "Speaking of a _lawsuit_."

'Summoning Notice'

Hikaru blinked.

 _I'm... being sued?_

Those words must have found their way out his lips, as Kaoru quickly snatched the paper out of his hands, personally offended by the nasty letter that suddenly made his brother sound so panicked.

"No way," He denied defensively, in a ' _they-wouldn't-dare'_ kind of tone. _No way. Not his Hikaru._ "By _who_?"

He answered his own question, when his eyes flashed across the paper, falling into the empty stool beside his twin, when he found the culprit's printed signature in the bottom corner, looking at it as if it were a written contract from the Devil.

"... _Cheiko_?"

* * *

An idling attorney hummed, tapping his foot as he stared at his watch, waiting for the painfully long descend of the elevator. He made a mental note to remind the boss to call the electrician, as it was taking a longer time than usual, but he perked up immediately when it announced it's long awaited arrival with a cheerful _Bing._

He took a blind step towards the elevator, but one look towards a hot, red faced woman striding out, he held his briefcase to his chest and tried to get as much out of her way as possible, staring wide eyed in her wake, watching her, and listening to her shoe's angry echos down the hall.

He turned back and groaned, as the elevator shut in front of his face.

Haruhi's tightened her face, not bothering to excuse herself, as everyone dropped everything just to step out of her path. Making it a point to also avoid her eyes, as if they'd be sat on fire.

Being an on-call attorney, and desperate for cases, she worked twelve hours a day, six days a week, seven if she was feeling adventurous or if her boss decided to be _spontaneous._ She was all for the extra hours, if it meant extra pay.

Extra pay however, didn't makeup for a loss of a much needed, scheduled vacation day, her boss just _spontaneously_ decided to take away from her, especially if it knocked her entire week in a loop, with a new case.

She swung the office door open, the wind blowing a piece of hair into her face. "You-"

Hokkai looked up, a phone in one hand and a file in the other.

"It's about _time_." He huffed, distracted.

Haruhi's cheek twitched, pausing to keep her voice low. "You took me off the case."

He opened his mouth, but he turned back to the phone, holding up a finger to silence her so he could finish his conversation.

After a few moments of ' _uh huh's_ ' and Haruhi wanting to throw her head into the closest wall, as hard as she possibly could, he hung up with a sugarcoated _'have a good day_ ' and finally turned to her.

"I _what_ now?"

"You took me off the Furukawa's case." She grumbled under her breath. "Without telling me first. I didn't say-"

"You act like I need your permission." He smirked, slightly amused. _Only slightly_. "I know what's best for my attorneys. Shikamaru would have way more fun on it than _you_."

"But-"

He held up his hand to stop her again, loving the power he possessed over her. _Ah, to be the boss._

"You were bored out of your mind, listening to spousal disputes." He said, "Besides, I've had Shima call you about the meeting I sat you up with, with our new client. And you were the one who said not to make you- what was it? _juggle cases_?"

She tightened her jaw. "That's not the point."

"It's an assault case." He said, sliding the file to her, over his desk. "Sexual assault. He was pretty picky when it came to getting a lawyer. He's willing to pay top dollar for the best, and low and behold-" He gestured to her. "Here you are."

Haruhi wasn't impressed, but quietly taking the compliment as she jerked the file off the table. "Defendant?"

"Obviously."

She frowned, aside from a piece of paper with the client's personal information, it was empty. "There's nothing here?"

"Let's just say, he doesn't have a very..." he paused. " _Solid argument_."

"Great," she scoffed. "You know how much I _love_ putting my clients behind bars."

"It would be nice to try your best _not_ to undermine him, _thank you_. I don't want a repeat of last time." He sighed, picking up the phone again, to call back an old man he forgot was on hold. "He's a huge client" He added, "His experience means everything to the firm's reputation."

Haruhi ignored that and flipped the page in the file as her boss turned on his very convincing, customer-service voice and toned her out.

She looked up at the corner, to read the name of her new client, almost choking when she saw a very familiar last name.

"Oh, _hell no_."

* * *

His palms were sweating, it had been a week, being in and out of different law firms and stuffy offices, sitting in uncomfortable chairs for hours and having every lawyer point their fingers at him and say the exact same thing every time.

 _"So you did it?"_

 _'No!'_ He wanted to scream, But every time he found it harder and harder to defend himself, because he was starting to believe it himself, even though, he couldn't remember _doing_ what he was even being accused of.

And Cheiko? He couldn't remember even seeing her at the winery that day, much less meeting her in her hotel room. He'd never hurt anyone. Not like that. And not Cheiko, but she didn't exactly have any reason to lie, so maybe he did.

But he couldn't remember.

He tightened his fingers, and, as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone, seized up when someone had squeezed his hand back.

Kaoru, who had loyally followed him to every one of his appointments with nearly every capable lawyer in Japan, was perched in the plush chair beside him, boredly flipping through a magazine until he felt him grab his hand tightly, to which he let the flimsy book fall limply in his lap to give him his full attention.

When he didn't say anything, he turned to the clock. Five minutes was starting to feel like five hours, and the lawyer was testing even his famously strong patience.

He could tell him not to worry, but he was afraid his voice would crack, and wouldn't sound too convincing.

"We're inside," he muttered quietly. "Take these things off."

Hikaru flinched as his sunglasses were pulled from his face and squeezed his eyes shut from sunlight that shown through the large window in the tiny office, shining down on him like a spotlight, as if screaming _"guilty!"_ , so everyone knew.

"Ah, look," Kaoru reached over him again, wiping his thumb under his eye. "You haven't been sleeping. You're getting a rash."

Hikaru could only shift away. "Maybe it's because you keep touching me."

Kaoru frowned, retracting himself to sit back in his own seat. He wasn't going to get on his case about being frustrated, but he didn't want a repeat of the last lawyer they met with, where Hikaru had all but got in the poor woman's face to yell at her, insisting that he _didn't do it,_ and nearly brought her to tears.

He opened his mouth to say something calm and reassuring, but the door behind the desk opened and he bit his tongue.

It was a short legged, long haired girl, fitted into a short dress suit. Her short heeled shoes barely making a sound as she walked up to her desk. Her hair was pinned back out of her face, showing her small forehead.

Everything about her was small, and her glasses were so large it made her nose seem button sized.

Hikaru narrowed his eyes. Thinking she looked oddly familiar.

Kaoru stood up like a refined gentlemen, but Hikaru stayed where he was.

Taking her seat in her tall chair that made her almost tower over her desk, Haruhi looked at the two men in front of her. Both men so ridiculously alike. Though, one man, heaven have mercy on her soul, was so unkept. Wearing slick black denim and a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was looking at her, threading the rim of his sunglasses between his fingers.

The other man, stood up straight, primed and proper, dressed in a fitted black suit. The hems embroidered gold, and his slick black tie tucked in nicely, pinned with a floral, probably solid gold, clip.

She turned to the ugly one and forced a smile. "You must be, _Hikaru Hitachiin_."

She stuck her hand out stiffly. "I'm Fujioka."

Hikaru stared at her for a moment, analyzing her face, trying to remember where he heard that name before...

 _He glared. "What's your name?"_

 _"Fujioka."_

 _"Never heard of you."_

It clicked, and he sat up, his glasses falling into his lap, almost tumbling to the floor. "You're a _lawyer_?"

Haruhi's smile fell, as did her hand. "I'm a lot of things, Mr. Hitachiin."

Kaoru raised his eyebrow, somehow feeling a little out of place. "Am I missing something?"

Hikaru slumped back int his seat. The world really was conspiring against him. "We met at the gallery show." He grumbled.

Kaoru nodded and was about to leave it at that, until he came the the horrifying realization, remembering a text message he had gotten two weeks ago, about " _Some random girl_ " his brother walked off with at the bar.

" _Oh_ ," he cringed, "Did, _you_ and _her_...?"

"No!" Hikaru blurted out, as though, what he was insinuating, would be outrageously disgusting, and Haruhi wondered whether she should be offended or not. "She's that _girl_ I told you about."

"Ah, the _rude_ lady."

She stiffened. _Rude lady?_ "You insulted _me_ and my _fiancee_."

"You approached me _first_." He shot back. "I wasn't going to say anything to you until you started belittling my work."

"You made an old woman _cry_."

"She _asked_ for my opinion. I didn't ask for _yours_."

Kaoru looked between them, silent. He pulled at Hikaru's sleeve, muttering not so quietly. "Mother said to get you the best lawyer in Japan. She's the _last_ best lawyer you haven't turned down yet. And we don't have anymore time to be picky."

Haruhi pulled out her notepad, writing something down that made Hikaru nervous.

He sighed, before settling himself back down in his seat. Kaoru patted his shoulder.

"I did my part." He said, looking at his watch. "I have to meet mother for the preparations of that after party."

"Behave please," he leaned close and whispered, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "And... call me afterwards, okay?"

Hikaru said nothing, scraping what little dignity he had left that his brother didn't just throw out the window. Kaoru bid his farewell to Haruhi next and made his escape, leaving him and his new lawyer alone. An awkward silence rotting the air between them.

After a moment, he crossed his arms, with a frown, looking like a pouting child.

Haruhi looked up, holding her glasses in place. Trying her best to push bad first impressions behind her. "So what happened?"

"What?" He murmured.

"Somebody filed a lawsuit against you for sexual assault." She said coldly. "Personally, I'm not surprised."

She narrowed her eyes. "So convince me otherwise."

Hikaru opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say, that he hadn't already said before. "...I didn't do it."

"That's not good enough." She pushed. "I don't believe you."

He looked like he was being crushed from the pressure in the air, as he sunk deeper into his chair. She hadn't known a lot about him and hadn't known him for long, but she was getting a taste of what being in charge felt like, and seeing someone, who had once looked down at her, gave her a gross thrill of satisfaction.

She took her notepad out again. _Crushes under pressure._ _Sweats._ "What happened?" She asked again, not really expecting a better response.

"I don't remember," tumbled out of his mouth, and sounded just as pathetic as it did the last time he said it. He almost choked. "I didn't _do_ anything, and if I did, I can't remember."

Haruhi took a deep breath. _Oh boy._ "Anything? When did you last see her?"

"Two weeks ago..." he hesitated. "Monday. I _guess_."

"You guess?"

"I only remember seeing her that Friday."

"You were at a winery," she scratched her pen against her paper, sneaking a glance towards the clock. How much more time until their appointment was over? "so you were _drunk_?"

He couldn't even remember drinking, but the morning after, he did see a bottle of champagne and and that broken wine glass, so- " _Maybe_."

She held back another _lord-have-mercy_ groan. This was a man who had gotten drunk and got a little too _touchy-feely_ with a girl who didn't appreciate it. _Typical_ "You can't use _maybe_ or _I can't remember_ , as a excuse. No one will _believe_ you."

"I didn't _do it_ ," he said again, "Even if I was drunk, I wouldn't have hurt her. I'm not _like that_."

"So you think she's _lying_?" Acid dripped from her lips, her eyes just daring him to say _yes, just_ so she could throw the notepad at his face and walk out. _Just_ so she could say how much she _hated_ men like him.

"Well... _No_." He whispered.

Haruhi sat back. _This was a first_. She pressed her pen to her cheek, realizing how much work this case had cut out for her.

"So you didn't do it, but you don't think she's lying either?"

"What would she lie for?"

" _Money_?"

"She's not like that."

His voice cracked, this time sounding like he was trying hard to even convince himself. He was sure, yet so unsure. It was pitiful. Almost like a cry for help. She so easily had him in her clutches and had barely even said anything to him. This man was different than the man she saw at the gallery that day. He held himself high, above everyone, he was cold and arrogant, but _this_ man was broken. He even sat broken. Like a puppet without strings. Limp and... without a purpose.

It was amazing what he could hide behind those sunglasses.

"The hearing is in two weeks," She stood up, gathering her tiny notes, and stuffing them into the nearly empty file. "Maybe what Miss Fujibayashi has to say will refresh your memory."

He watched her stand, and let out a straining breath, relived that he finally had a reasonable excuse to call Kaoru, and, awkwardly stood up as well.

"I'll call you to set our next appointment before court." She stuck her hand out. This was what she did all too often. She was good at it. It came naturally. But now, standing next to someone who showed his emotions so obviously on his sleeve, she couldn't help but notice how incredibly fake her words sounded.

"A pleasure working with you, Mr. Hitachiin." She made a face. _There it is again._ _Ugh. Fake._

Hikaru finally took her hand.

He didn't shake it. Just stared. Stopping to take in how small her fingers were curled underneath his.

And noticed, how he wasn't trembling anymore as he pulled away.

He nodded.

"Likewise."

 _I guess._

* * *

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	8. Chapter 7

**\- My Muse -**

 _Chapter 7_

* * *

Kaoru was bustling through his office, tape measure slung around his neck, shimmering in glorified sweat, and with a flustered hand, swept back his messy hair, cursing out loud that everything was wrong and that they were behind schedule. But he was alone, so his words only bounced off the walls.

Only a month and a half into preparing for his debut fashion show next year and everything was already starting to run horribly off schedule. He still had to look into the model agencies, pick and book a venue, and finalize the finishing touches to his sketches before sending them to his designer, who, by the way, was taking his sweet time, and wasting all of _his_.

He frowned, noticing his terrible _old man_ worthy trait of checking the time, as he glanced down at his watch again. He was _supposed_ to meet with Hikaru for lunch today, but now he was going to have to _work_.

Kaoru turned, hearing a cheery ' _je suis ici!'_ from the doorway, and turned so fast his tape measure whipped around and almost slapped him in the face.

" _Finally_." He huffed, watching one of his french designers wheel in a mannequin, walking with a skip in his step, evidently smitten with himself and his work that he showed off in a proud gesture with his hand.

" _Eh_?" The man wiggled his eyebrows, but turning to the mannequin, with his latest test design, Kaoru couldn't stop himself from sputtering in shock, pointing to the loose tank top as if it were on fire.

"W-what is _that_! This isn't _green_."

The man gasped, his thick accent hitching in offense. "This is clearly green!"

"Well it's not _the_ green."

"You _asked_ for green. I bring you _green_."

Kaoru held his fist to his mouth, to stop himself from screeching, looking at the bright green monstrosity in front of him. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he wasn't _mad_ , and that this was _fine_ , and everything was _perfectly fine,_ and could easily be fixed.

But of course, as he was in the middle of his very loud, _"I asked for teal green and you brought me pine green. This is a disaster"_ outburst, someone suddenly decided that it was now a good time to poke their head in through the door.

"Hello darling!" Yazuha chimed. He clearly inherited her love of grand entrances, as she swung the door open with her arm stretched out wide, with a big toothy grin, as if to scream: " _No one panic! I am here."_

Even while hanging off the wise age of fifty-two, Yazuha was still a picture of youth, not looking a day over forty. Today her short, redish blonde hair was gelled out of her face, bangs pinned back pinned with a twinding, floral clips running down behind her ear. She was dressed in her favorite white jumpsuit. Her shimmering gold belt creating a disco across the floor as she immediately stepped up to the mannequin. Busy fingers threading along the dark navy blazer, muttering a pleasant _'oh, how nice'_.

Kaoru felt his eye twitch, wanting to smack her nosy hands away.

" _Mother_ ," he groaned. "What'd you _want_?"

She spun around innocently. _Snooping for something to nag about? Of course not. She would never._ "Just wondering how you're _doing_." She smiled.

He grumbled, ripping his time sheet off his desk. " _Fine_." He insisted stubbornly.

She tucked her hands behind her back, sneaking a glance over his computer that was almost hanging off the edge of the desk.

"Do you need any _help._ " She asked, popping the ' _p'_ with a teasing glint in her eyes.

As urging as it was to tattle to his mother and tell her that _this mean man_ was ruining all his stuff, he stiffened, and just muttered a stubborn " _No."_ Before turning away to find something to do, that would make him look busy.

Yazuha pouted, rolling her eyes as she dropped her hands with a exaggerated _'humph'._ Working behind the scenes was so _boring_. She missed being in charge, and bossing people around. But, as everyone liked to remind her, she couldn't be the boss forever, and eventually had to give the baton to one of her sons.

She reached over when he wasn't looking, and pinched his cheek.

Although, she admitted, being the boss _did_ look good on him.

He whined. "Go _away_."

She pulled away, her voice falling to a tone she tried to make sound serious, but she was out of practice since her parenting days, so it just came off as more like a _sigh_.

"How is _Hikaru_ doing?" She asked. She had heard about the lawsuit, but her eldest had the habit of secrecy and didn't call home much anymore, so most of his life gossip came from her other son. "He hasn't answered any of my messages."

Kaoru frowned, tossing himself into his chair. "The same. He was shaken up the first couple of days, but he's dealing with it at least, and he's finally found a lawyer he hasn't made cry yet, so that's a step in the right direction. _I guess_. Don't know how long she'll last though."

"... Akihito was a good lawyer." Yazuha mumbled hesitantly.

" _Mom_." He snapped.

"I _know_ ," she sighed. "I'm just worried. I wish we could _talk_ , but he hasn't really said anything to me since I suggested trying therapy again. I swear, he would've bitten my head off, if his mouth was big enough."

"Well he wasn't really a _fan_ the first time," he defended. "He's dealing with it on his own."

"I suppose." She slid arms over his shoulders, disguising her snooping glance to his sketch book, with a hug and motherly kiss to his cheek. "But... _ignoring_ isn't _dealing_."

He didn't say anything, mostly wanting to hurry and change the subject so he wouldn't throw himself into another defensive _'Hikaru's fine. I'm taking care of him!'_ fit. He had spiraled down that path _one_ too many times this week.

"Let me know if he needs anything." She said after awhile, patting his face, wiping away at a dimple forming in his cheek. "And try not to spend too much time fussing over him. There's a lot of work to do here, too."

He glanced down as she tapped her nail against his time sheet, reminding him that he still needed to call that model agency. Visiting his brother every other day was really starting to cut his work time in half, not that he'd ever admit that out loud, or to himself even. He had too heavy of a guilty conscience to think _Hikaru_ could be even the _slightest_ of an inconvenience.

Once she left and he realized he was alone, he fell back into his chair, hiding his face in his hands.

 _Akihito._ He recoiled in his skin why'd she have to mention _that_ guy?

He reached for his phone.

Just to check on him. He swore. Just for a _second_. _Then_ he'd go back to work.

* * *

"I'm fine." Hikaru grumbled into his phone, waving away a fumbling young receptionist, after she gave him his coffee he didn't ask for. "Stop calling me at work."

He hung up just as Kaoru finished trying to justify himself with a fussy 'I was just making _sure!_ ' and threw his back deep into his chair. Looking so characteristically alike to his brother, and yet, so _different_.

Somehow he made even _sitting_ look messy and ugly.

Where Kaoru glowed in sweat, he somehow drowned. Where Kaoru breathed, he gasped.

Where Kaoru kissed his reflection in the morning, he struggled to even look himself in the eye.

No one had a problem telling them apart anymore. Or maybe they couldn't. Maybe out of the two, they could only tell which one was, _Kaoru_.

'So you _must_ be, Hikaru' they always said. It _had_ to be, because whatever _he_ did, Kaoru would _never_ do.

He was the twin who never spoke in interviews, and shoved away the press. The tired twin. The one people were afraid of. The one who was _too hard_ on the outside but _too soft_ on the inside. He was the troubled one of the two, and as if he had forgotten, they all made sure he remembered.

He was the depressed twin.

The twin in _debt_.

The twin who _sexually assaulted_ his colleague in her own hotel room.

It _had_ to be, Hikaru.

Because Kaoru would _never_ have done that.

Which is what the writer was heavily implying, in an article, with the worst possible picture of him, printed on the front page of the newspaper.

And it was probably blazing online as trending news, but he hadn't bothered to look yet.

So to answer his brother, without _lying;_ He wasn't fine.

He stood up, deciding that now was as good of a time as any, to leave work. Maybe even go for a walk and not come back. He still had the budget accounts to sort through, but those could wait 'till tomorrow. Right now, he was shaky, and sweating, and in a desperate need of a drink. His cold, overly sugared coffee wasn't doing anything but raising his blood pressure.

The second Hikaru stepped out of his office, the few young employees that were in the hallway quickly scrambled to either run away or avert their attention elsewhere and tried their hardest to avoid running into his line of vision.

He was on a killing streak that week, threatening to fire the first person to step on his heels, and anyone who'd talk back to him. They had already lost two members on the design team, and rumor had it, it was because they had only _suggested_ a different approach to advertising their new RPG game.

The elevator slid open, smooth and silently, and as Hikaru stepped inside and punched in the lobby's number, the two women elder women, who he recognized as the wives of two top directors, gasped, as if they were now stuck inside the tiny metal box with an ax murderer. The doors closed, and they huddled close together into one of the corners, whispering behind their hands. Their eyes glowering.

Somehow over the last week, word had gotten out of what he planned to do once he inherited the company, so naturally the higher ups resented him, even more than they did before. _How dare this child fire the very people who built this company up from the ground?_ They hissed. He _knows nothing. And Ito-Co was going to fall in complete ruin because of him. He was in debt, so surely the company was going to go bankrupt._

His eyes scanned over to the woman, who's polished grey hair was twisted up into the shape of a bees nest, and noticed her clutching a page of that day's newspaper.

 _Great,_ he internally groaned, as the elevator opened up to the glass lobby. _Fucking great._

Attention locked on the exit, Hikaru took long, angry strides, through the, heavily loaded main hall, full of anxious employees and large loading carts. His path was made clear for him, but was stopped by someone's stiff shoulder. The shoulder of a man who refused to have to step out of someone else's way.

"New's travels fast." Fujibayashi said under his breath. "Not planning on keeping it under wraps?"

He tensed.

Hikaru felt his stomach tightened. He hadn't seen him since before the _incident_. He felt he should say something about Cheiko, but what would he say? _Apologize?_ she _was_ his niece, but that seemed doltish now. Especially since he was still in denial of ever doing anything wrong in the first place.

"You think _I_ told them?" He spit, throwing any possibility of an apology out the window.

"Doesn't matter who," Daichi grumbled, staring straight ahead, "But thanks to this, it's really jeopardized our sales. A lot of Clients have even sent back their shipments."

Hikaru waited, but not one word about Cheiko ever came out of Fujibayashi's mouth.

He glanced around the room. He guessed those loading carts were full of returned merchandise. This whole time he only wondered about Cheiko, and everyone's reactions towards him. He didn't stop to think what this could mean for the company. What it could mean for the _Reverse Project_ that he hadn't even begun to lift off the ground.

He hadn't spoken to his father, but god only _knew_ what he was thinking.

Hikaru hid his panic behind an unfaltered scowl, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

Without even trying, he had completely set fire to his father's well respected reputation as a business owner and threw his already struggling company into the trash.

Ironically, those old ladies were right.

"News like that doesn't stick here," he said cringing back at his own words, but he couldn't muster anything else. Anything else would have broken his voice. "They'll forget all about it before we settle."

"For our sake, I hope so." Fujibayashi muttered.

"For our sake or for _yours_?"

Daichi thought about replying, but decided not to give him the satisfaction, then, as he pressed the rim of his coffee to his lips, started to walk away.

But he stopped, his shoulder just inches from being pressed into Hikaru's side.

"You might want to put those on." He whispered, referring to the sunglasses hanging on his shirt. "It's gotten _bright_ outside."

He walked away, but he didn't didn't move until Daichi disappeared around the corner. Hikaru touched the glasses hanging against his chest, thought about slipping them on, but decided against it, all because _he_ had suggested it.

But...

Why would he say that?

When he reached it, Hikaru grabbed the heavy metal handle and pushed the door open, immediately feeling the hot ray of the late afternoon. There was a shadow of people standing outside the door.

And suddenly, he understood _why_.

" _There_ he is!"

He swallowed his gasp, as he was blinded by a bright camera flash that was shoved into his face. It was loud and made him jump back. The shuttering of what sounded like thousands of fluttering lenses. When he thought there was only one, three more were held up, snapping furiously. Voices were shouting at him, either screaming or asking questions but he couldn't understand a single thing they said.

Some held cellphones, some were large black video cameras. Tiny red lights filming him as he tried to push past them, catching every violent shove from every possible angle. 'Capturing _Hikaru Hitachiin's_ first appearance out in public since his scandalous assault charge'. Is what he caught one man yelling into the other side of one of the cameras. " _Why'd you do it?_ " Someone yelled. "Admit it! You did it!"

' _I didn't!'_ he wanted to say, but he was biting his jaw too tight.

He lifted his arm to shield his face, when someone's hand came out of the mess of crowded limbs and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away, causing him to almost fall into them or, what one video camera made it look like, was Hikaru viciously pushing someone out of the way.

He stumbled towards the only clear exit, but a large neon sign was held up, blocking his way, trapping him, forcing him to stare into his own guilt. " _The fault is assault_ " they chanted, waving their signs, pointing him out to the entire street of unknowing bystanders, so everyone knew who he was and what he did.

"'I don't remember' isn't an excuse!" A woman screamed. Hikaru tried to sidestep her, but a man's large hand pushed against his chest, shoving him against the wall.

He felt dizzy. His legs were weak, and out of a burst of desperation to hide away, he fumbled to grab his sunglasses off his shirt, but before he could slip them on, someone knocked them out of his hand, and felt a knot curl in his chest, hearing a horrifying _crack_ as they were stepped on.

A phone was held up so close, it was almost touching his lips, and a tall, burly man, with dirty facial hair and beady eyes glared down at him, as if trying to tear into his soul. His face was tightened, split in rage that almost looked fake. "What'd you have to say for yourself?"

He opened his mouth, and for a moment, he thought he might say something, but before he could get passed the first syllable, the phone was ripped away, and thrown into the wall beside his head.

He screamed, that being the only thing he could really do.

"M-my phone!" The man sputtered.

Hikaru turned to the short woman who was now standing in front of him, feeling incredibly small.

"You're causing a public disturbance and destruction of private property. I've already called the police." She said, unnervingly clam. "If you have a _problem_ , you can take it to City Hall."

She caught the eye of one of the journalists. "It's his _lawyer_." He exclaimed, turning his camera to her. "It's _Fujioka_."

"The lawyer who defended that _molester_?"

"What a _pair_." One of the men spat.

Haruhi stuck her hand over his recorder. "Stop filming."

"Oh _I'm_ sorry," he adjusted the lens, zooming in. "You want your good side?"

Hikaru watched as her hand dove into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out something small he couldn't see, but whatever it was turned a few surrounding people an interesting shade of white.

"I _said_ ," she shoved it into the closest camera. " _Stop filming_."

The man looks at the gold badge shoved into his camera and leaned back, opening and closing his mouth, searching for words to justify himself. It came out in a jumbled mess, sounding along the lines of a pathetic, ' _well it wasn't my idea_ '.

He backed away, but someone pushed passed him, grumbling a nasty curse at her that made Hikaru scrap together what little confidence he had put behind him. He tried to step in front of her, as the man swung his hand towards her, but he wasn't fast enough, and recoiled back when a can that was thrown at her, hit her shoulder, and soaked the entire front of her uniform in cold, dark black coffee.

She didn't gasp or stumble back. She didn't say anything.

He jerked his head up, hearing the distant cry of police sirens, and the crowd of people started to disperse almost immediately, throwing their signs on the ground, clutching their precious cameras in their arms. Holding heir precious _evidence_.

Once it was quiet, Haruhi sighed and leaned down to pick up the can, crushing it in her fingers.

"When I came down here for a _coffee break_ ," she looked down at her once freshly dry-cleaned suit. "This isn't what I meant."

He opened his mouth, finally finding his voice, but she cut him off.

"Are you okay?" she turned to look at him. "You didn't _touch_ anyone, did you? Did they hurt you?"

He felt... even smaller, and f _ragile_. He stood almost a foot taller than her, but he was the one trembling and about to collapse.

He watched her whip her hair out of her face, and suddenly his lips were dry. His attention was locked on every wrinkle in her forehead, the curl of her lips, and her soft eyes that hardened when she caught his stare.

His heart back flipped wildly inside his chest when she reached for his hand, but running high on nerves, he almost ripped it away and wanted to scream at her to not touch him, but he didn't. He just froze.

"You're shaking." She said.

Then, Hikaru's eyes went wide, almost bulging out of his head as he snatched his hand back, as if finally realizing who it was in front of him.

" _You_ ," he accused, still shaking as he stepped back, seeing what was in her hand. "You're... you're a _cop_?"

Haruhi quickly stuffed the badge into her pocket, holding her hair back with her other hand, slightly flustered. "Ah, _no_. That's not-... _I'm_ not."

"You're a painter, a _lawyer_ ," his eyes narrowed, "and a _cop_?"

Hikaru looked up at her, as though he wasn't sure what _species_ she was anymore. "What _are_ you?"

"I'm not a cop," she frowned, her face then curling in disgust as she added, "Or a _painter_. Sometimes I work part-time as a security guard. It just looks similar to-"

" _Why_?"

"Oh well _I'm sorry_ you're privileged and don't need to work _two jobs_."

He glared, and was about to fire back that _he had two jobs too_ , but his mind hooked onto something that was patently obvious the entire time, he just didn't notice, and found that his voice softened to something he almost didn't recognize.

"So," he mumbled softly. "What're you... _doing here?_ " Doubting her main objective was to rescue him.

"I was in the neighborhood," she admitted, which sounded like a really bad lie, but it was true. She really did just want a cup of coffee.

 _Not dumped all over me, of course_ , she fussed over her blazer that was probably going to stain, _but beggars can't be choosers_.

"You have to be careful," Haruhi stated gravely, in between a grumble of ' _now_ _I'm going to have to go shopping for a new jacket'_ , "Pressing the media like this is going to make it harder in court." _'I hate shopping',_ another grumble."I know It's difficult when people get like that, but don't _touch_ anyone."

"It wasn't _my_ fault," he argued, tugging out a handkerchief from his front pocket, before pressing it against her jacket, in a feeble effort to apologize. "And you didn't _have_ to do that. I was fine."

"You're _welcome_ ," she retorted, glancing down, mildly amused that it must be a rich person's habit to carry handkerchiefs with them, but then, suddenly turned bright pink, feeling his hand grow a little too bold, and quickly slapped his hand away from her chest.

"What're you _doing_?" She blurted out in shock.

He gasped. "That- I wasn't trying to-"

"God, I _hate_ you." She spun around, not believing that she was actually worried about him, and started to march down the sidewalk. "You're _impossible_."

"That wasn't-! I didn't-"

" _Pervert_."

"No, _wait_! I'm sorry!"

"Stop following me!"

* * *

At the top window of Ito-Co, a pair of old eyes peaked through the blinds, looking unintentionally sneaky and exceptionally ninja-like, and watched as the two of them pointed and screamed at each other down the sidewalk.

Having just watched the violent scene unfold, his face wrinkled in a very fatherly worry, and was undoubtedly overthinking it in his head.

After awhile Mr. Hitachiin finally closed the blinds, but not before making sure Hikaru safely found his way to the parking garage.

"I hope you're not busy, Daichi," he said politely, turning to his peer who was innocently kneading the file he was holding between his fingers."We need to _talk_."

Fujibayashi grinned.

"I suppose we do."

* * *

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 **I always appreciate your comments and support!**


	9. Chapter 8

**My Muse**

 _Chapter 8_

* * *

Haruhi held her arms around herself in a hug, kneading her fingers into her sleeve, feeling every near set of eyes staring into her like tiny daggers.

She sat at the furthest end of the subway, but she was still surrounded by nosy looks from older women with their children, and gossiping teenagers. The man sitting next to her was even stealing glances at her from around his newspaper., biting his lip curiously.

A group of mothers shuffled so close to each other, they were practically sitting in each other's laps, just to whisper behind their pretty, manicured fingers.

"Isn't that her?"

"That's _Fujioka_."

"Oh _my_ , it must be so embarrassing."

Haruhi shifted awkwardly in her seat, wanting to disappear into her bag of vegetables. It was amazing, how in just 2 days she had turned into her own street celebrity. The video of her throwing that cellphone had gone viral. Everywhere she turned, someone was watching the clip on their phone, and living in the small down that she did, where everyone knew everybody, gossip spread faster by mouth than it could by any news caster, and before long, everyone knew, that the only lawyer in town, was defending the very famous fashion designer's son, Hikaru Hitachiin, and his supposed assault charge.

And, she thought regrettably, the _Manjiro case_. Which had gone completely forgotten about, until one of the men in the video mentioned it. The came that came just short of ruining her entire career.

 _Embarrassing_ was an understatement. She felt humiliated.

Haruhi was the first off the train, the second the doors opened, almost tripping over her own feet as she tried to hurry away from the prying eyes. There was a crowd so she stuck close to the wall, holding onto her bag tightly, dodging bony shoulders and chunky briefcases that threatened to knock her over.

She kept her jaw locked and her face ducked low. Her lengthy bangs hiding half her face in a shadow as she paced passed grouchy business men, watching her feet carefully, holding her own bag and grocery sack tightly to her chest.

But she wasn't watching carefully enough, as not a second later, she found herself knocked to the cement floor on her backside, with a gasp. The kale and potatoes rolling out of the paper bag, and scattering between her legs.

She looked up wildly, towards the stiff back she had just ran into. The man turned around and she tried stuttering enough words together to apologize but it stopped dead in her throat, as he leaned down and started to help her, and noticed a familiar shade of grey eyes that widened at the sight of her,

" _Joichiro_." She choked in surprise.

" _Haruhi_." He stiffened, equally surprised.

She barely recognized him. His shaggy hair was cut and groomed back with something greasy. His dingy t-shirt and jeans were traded for dark colored slacks, a crisp white collared shirt and a grey blazer with a gold hem, rolled neatly at the top of his elbows. His face was clean shaven.

Haruhi looked down at his perfectly polished shoes, seeing her disheveled reflection before she noticed she was gawking and quickly shut her jaw.

"Joichi... you-" she stuttered awkwardly, and he grinned widely, rather smug to find her speechless.

"You _like_?" he stood up from his kneel, discarding the fact the groceries were still on the ground. "I knew you'd be impressed. I planned to surprise you, but I suppose this works too-"

"Where have you _been_?" she finally managed to blurt out, collecting the last of the bruised potatoes. "You... leave for _three_ days, and..." she paused gesturing to his new outfit, staring at it as if it disgusted her. "And _this_? What-"

"I _know_ ," his voice dropped two tones as he glanced over his shoulder, noticing a few people start to stare at them. "I was gone a little longer than we planned, but I figured you were fine by yourself for a little while."

"You were gone for _nine_ days."

He flashed her pitied smile. "Did you miss me?"

She refused to admit that and ignored his hand as she picked herself up as to further prove that point. "You never answered my messages." She muttered defensively.

"You only sent one," he argued, laughing at her, "and it wasn't very descriptive. ' _Text when you're not busy'_ I think it said."

"And you never did."

"I was busy." He shrugged, but his infamous ability to change the subject kicked in. "Has anything relatively interesting happened while I was gone?" She opened her mouth. "Probably not I bet." She closed it.

"I'm sure you're interested to know what _I've_ been up to." He added, looking as though he was about to burst with some amazing story. "Come love. We'll talk about it on the way home." He looked down, towards the paper bag. "Is that dinner?"

She hesitated. "Well-"

" _Lovely_."

Haruhi sighed bemusedly. "It's good to have you back, Joichiro."

He grinned. "Isn't it?"

He did most of the talking, as the things she thought he'd find interesting, like being the lawyer of one of his beloved idols, were things he already knew, and only replied with another shrug, then, dove right back into how amazing French cocktail was, and thoroughly corrected her when she mispronounced something he said in a rather convincing French accent; apparently he had been practicing.

While it was nice and peaceful when he was gone, he did bring along a familiar atmosphere wherever he went that she very often found herself missing from the past, and she supposed it was one of the things that attracted her to him, and after drifting off into thought as they walked and he continued to ramble about all the different shapes rich people could fold their napkins, she started to absently lean into his shoulder, smelling a vague hint of something floral, and wondered if it was perfume or just the smell of his shirt.

She didn't hear half of his expensive escapade through town, with his so-called new "friends", as her mind wandered through more important things, namely her new case, and most of it went through one ear and came out the other, but she did catch him repeating the same name, over and over. So much so that her thoughts of paperwork and her investigation of a certain Hitachiin's personal life was invaded by this _woman_ , who seemed to have treated him to more than just fancy dinners and champagne.

Her mind fogged as she thought of Joichiro surrounded by women and wine, and what happened last time, and uneasily tried to slip her hand into his for some type of pathetic comfort.

But she didn't get close enough, and was obliviously rejected as he whooshed his arms around to elaborate a glamorous light show _Airi_ invited him to.

Though through all his exaggerate detail, Haruhi was rather unimpressed.

"What exactly did this business proposal entail?" She muttered at last.

"I don't think we've gotten to that part yet." And yet another shrug.

"Yet? You mean you're seeing her again?"

"Haru, this is just the beginning," he said, turning around, walking backwards. "Don't you remember what I said about widening our social circle? It takes time. Rome wasn't built in a day. And people don't get famous over night."

"We don't _have_ to be famous." She said quietly, thinking back to that video. "All we _need_ to be able to afford the wedding."

"And then what? Be broke after the honeymoon? Wouldn't it be nice to not have to worry about money anymore?"

"Well-"

"Don't worry, I'll handle _everything_ ," He said. "You'll never have to work again. I'll buy you all kinds of clothes. You'll be _pretty_ ," he added, as if that was the most important part. "Like all the girls at those fancy parties."

Haruhi was about to reply that she couldn't care less about those stupid parties, most importantly, the people _attending_ them, but her argument never went further than imagination as her phone started a buzzing fit in her back pocket.

It was Mr. Hokkai. Which was weird in itself. Her boss never called her on her days off.

Then something in her stomach churned, and she started to panic.

He must've seen the video.

Oh god, I'm getting fired, was her first initial thought, as she answered it and slowly brought it to her ear, and would've immediately apologized, had he not interrupted her.

"Sir I-"

"Explain? I hope so."

She frowned. Well he didn't sound _mad_. "I... didn't think it'd be everywhere."

"Huh? What're you talking about?" There was a slam from his side of the line, which she recognized as the sound of a metal file cabinet being slammed shut. "I'd like to know why your new client's _mother_ is calling me at lunch on a Sunday. That's what I'd like to know."

She blinked. "Huh?"

"Well if I'm not getting a day off, neither are _you_."

"Wait, so I'm _not_ getting fired?"

There was a pause, before he answered suspiciously. "Why? What'd you do?"

" _Nothing_." She almost choked.

He chose to ignore that. Honestly? What he didn't know won't hurt him. "No, it's about your client's mother. Yazuha Hitachiin I think it was. She's made an appointment to see you at her office tomorrow morning."

She frowned. "...Her office? That's not normally how I-"

"It's for some kind of _proposition_. Be there by two. I've emailed you the address."

"But I-"

He hung up.

* * *

Hikaru knew something wasn't right the moment he walked into his office that morning.

He wasn't sure what, but something felt wrong, as he sat down in his chair and was suddenly swamped with work, while on normal days, had hardly any work at all. And Fujibayashi all but skipped through the hall when he first entered his office as the clock was nearing noon. He didn't say anything specific, but took every opportunity he could to boss him around, making sure he "had enough work to keep him from falling asleep"

 _Again_ , he added curtly, as he tossed another file on his desk.

He knew something was off, when the old man brought him a stack of shipment orders instead of the bank statements he asked for, and when he was transferred calls from customers. One who kept him on hold for almost an hour and one who was too old to understand basic communication and made him repeat everything twice.

So he wasn't surprised when he, on his last nerve, barged into his father's floor, confirming that he wanted to _talk_ , and was told he was postponing his retirement, and that he had demoted him from the board of directors, down to shipment manager.

Which was oddly suspicious enough, especially since _shipment manager_ was Fujibyashi's job.

"I promise that you'll inherit the company when this scandal blows over," he said, in a tone as if he were trying to calm a crying child, "but for right now, I'm trying to be diligent and save the company's reputation. Honestly, this is all for _your_ sake."

"But you're leaving _him_ on the board."

His father would have been amused, if he didn't hate this so much. "What? You don't want him bossing you around?"

Hikaru said nothing. Because that was obvious.

"It could have been someone else." He argued.

"He's the only one qualified enough for the board. It used to be his job before you transferred here. You know, I _was_ going to give the company to _him_."

He was holding his breath, as he turned around, ready to storm out the door, until his father's voice stopped him.

"I'm not _finished_."

He growled under his breath, turning back around.

"It's about what happened a few days ago. In front of the office," his father added hesitantly. "With those journalists-"

Hikaru ticked. "I didn't touch anyone."

"No, but your mother was worried."

" _And_?"

"She hired you a form of... person security." He said as delicately as he could, but his son's face still started to curl in a scowl. Honestly, it was almost like clockwork.

"Personal security?" He parroted.

"Like a bodyguard... _per se_."

He was mortified, but he just stared at his father, as though the information was still making it's way to the processing system in his head.

"A.. bodyguard."

"Only temporary." His father added positively, as if that was supposed to make it less insulting.

"A body... guard."

"It's not something I would have agreed to, but your mother really did insist."

"I don't need a babysitter." He snapped.

"There's a lot of commotion going on now," his father replied in defense, picking up his tiny porcelain teacup between two careful fingers, picking his next few words just as carefully. "We... just don't want you getting in anymore trouble."

"I didn't exactly _ask_ for this to happen." He grumbled.

"It's not like we think you'll do anything wrong. This time it was just some protesters, but next time... someone might get violent."

His shoulders tensed, and his teeth dug into his cheeks, trying not to yell. "I don't _need_ -"

"There's not much I can do about it, your mother's already meeting with her this afternoon."

Hikaru stopped and blinked a few times just to make sure he heard right. " _What_?" _A girl?_

Somehow that made it even worse.

He glared. " _Who_?"

* * *

Haruhi looked down unsure at the address in her hand, then, back at the building she stood in front of, then back down at her phone, wondering if she had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

It hurt her neck staring up at the number of floors, all the walls were a polished glass, reflecting the sky and scattered clouds. She had never seen so many windows. If an airplane flew down low enough, she was sure it'd go right through it.

She rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath before heading to the door. It was supposed to be considered a warehouse, but looked more like four fancy hotels stacked on top of each other.

She took a deep breath before stepping through the sliding door, and unsurprisingly, the inside was even bigger.

The floor was a polished marble and weary step she took through the lobby she got more and more distracted she almost forgot what she came here to do. It was loud, and bustling. Much like her office but much bigger, and brighter. Windows as tall as the ceiling lined the walls, but those seemed pointless, as she glanced up and stared right into the reflective crystals hanging of the enormous chandelier, which seemed to glow up the entire floor in dazzling shards of light.

As she was gawking at the large water fountain, that looked suspiciously like a small waterfall, unbeknowest that she was just standing idly in the room, she heard a loud swear, but before she had time to turn around, A woman stomped past her, arm stretched out to purposely shove her out of the way.

Haruhi sighed, listening to her high heels echo furiously off the walls, until she finally made it the door. What _was it_ with rich people and pushing others out of the way? Did they think life was the _red carpet_?

She brushed her shoulder, and bent down to pick up her bag, but it suddenly disappeared from out from under her eyes, and she stood up, surprised to see a certain red haired man holding it out to her.

"Sorry about that," he said exasperated, "I probably should have fired her over the phone. They always make a scene."

Then there was a pause, as his face suddenly split, as he just then realized who he was talking to.

"Fujioka!" he grinned, and his arm dropped, lowering her bag out of her reach before she could grab it. "Right on time. I took you as that kind of person."

Haruhi started to frown, "Mr. Hitachiin?" but there was something different about him. Though she couldn't really tell what it was.

No it's not him. He looks... different?

"Just _Kaoru_ ," He answered with another smile. " _Mr. Hitahiin_ makes us confused."

He stretched his arm out for her to shake his free hand. She guessed he had a love for accessories, as he was decorated like a Christmas tree. With silver rings from his index down to his pinkie. Thick leather braclets, studded with diamonds hugging his wrists and long silver chains and charms hanging around his neck.

He was dressed differently than when she had first seen him. His work outfits apparently being tight jeans and one too many shirts, and three pastel scarfs slung around his shoulders, hanging down to his waist to pick up the slack of the severe lack of top buttons. He practically screamed _'I'm rich and fabulous. Give me attention'._

She finally smiled back, taking his hand. At least he wasn't like the other one.

"I'm not much into formalities," he said suddenly, "could I call you Haruhi?"

She blinked. Not remembering ever telling him her name. "Actually I pref-"

" _Haru_ it is."

She sighed.

"I'd give you a tour, but Mother's rather impatient. She's dying to meet you." He stepped passed her, with a wink before chiming. "Follow me."

Despite saying that, their trip to his mother's office was no short of a tour of the entire building. Haruhi was certain she knew the names of all the employees and were they worked before they even reached the elevator. And during their flight up eighteen floors, he told her about the rec room in the basement and the garden on the roof.

"That's Hikaru's favorite." he added, even if she didn't ask.

She knew they didn't work in the same office, but she had already lost track how many times he had said his name. It was Hikaru this, and Hikaru that, as if a little piece of Hikaru was embedded into ever corner of the building. Her ears were filled with so many useless facts about Hikaru by the time they reached the end of the first hall, she could probably write his biography.

Kaoru's attention was soon distracted by a group of tall, women dress so beautifully it looked like he was pulled off to the side by a bunch of barbie dolls, and Haruhi thought that maybe, just _maybe_ she could find a different guide and finally be able to talk to Mrs. Hitachiin so she could leave, but he quickly shooed them away, and motioned her with his head to follow him " _this way"._

They turned a corner and he didn't hesitate to show her a gallery wall, to which, she wasn't surprised was painted by, of course, _Hikaru_.

If she had to hear his name one more time, she swore to herself that she'd jump out the first open window.

"I'm sure you're busy," she spoke up, as politely as she could. "I don't wan't to keep you. If you could just point me to your mother's office, I'm sure I could figure it out."

But he was too absorbed into his childhood rant about how Hikaru almost broke his arm one time, that he didn't hear her.

He looked over his shoulder towards her, leading her through another door. "Say I... I saw- Well, everyone saw what happened, with those reporters and all, and I know Hikaru hadn't said anything about it, but I appreciate the way you stood up for him like that."

She frowned at the thought of it. "I didn't do it for him."

He laughed sheepishly. "Maybe not, but we were all really worried about him. It was nice that you stepped in like that."

"I know Hikaru can be kind of standoffish, but he's not a bad guy. He's really kind of..." He paused. "...Delicate. And I can tell it really bothered him."

"I wasn't trying to do him any favors." She insisted.

He scoffed."He says that."

"You're both so different." She mentioned thoughtfully. "I get a completely different atmosphere from you two."

"You and him look a lot alike though." She added.

He laughed at her randomness. "Being identical twins will do that to you."

"You're twins?"

"Couldn't you tell?"

They stepped up to a large glass door, draped with a blue curtain, and Kaoru casually opened it with his shoulder.

"Mother," he called out obnoxiously, and Haruhi finally understood the twin-like resemblance between them. "Haruhi's here."

"Sorry I can't join you. I have to get back to work." He said as he winked, as if it wasn't his fault for their half hour walkabout, and finally passed her, her bag that she just realized he was still holding. "Hopefully I'll see you on the way out."

Haruhi went to reply to him, but the door quickly shut behind her, and suddenly found herself trapped in another strange room.

She barely had time to in her surroundings, when a soft voice came from around the corner.

"Oh, come in darling! You don't have to stand in the doorway."

Yazuha stood up from the tall fainting couch near the windows, setting down her glass of sparkling water, and didn't waste any time going straight for her.

Her hair stuck out and curled the same way her sons's did. Sporting that rich shade of reddish brown. She wore a long sleeved, low cut burgundy top, that was tucked into her long black pencil skirt, that cleared her knees and raised high above her waist. Her look completed by the many gold chains hanging from round her neck.

In all honesty, she looked more like the twin's older sister rather than their mother.

Haruhi quickly shut her mouth as soon as she caught herself gawking again. "Ah... Mrs. Hitachiin."

"Look at you," she cooed, as if she were talking to a baby. "You're even prettier in person." Her hands hovered just shy from holding her cheeks. "Come sit! I have a lot to talk with you about."

"Although I do apologize for the short notice." She patted the couch beside her. "Would you like something to drink?"

She felt overwhelmed. "Ah, no- no thank you. I'm fine."

"Of course you are." Yazuha smiled, not sensing her discomfort at all. "Hikaru's such a stinker. Being so secretive all the time. He didn't tell me anything about you. And you're adorable. Like a little doll."

Haruhi smiled unsurly. She was beginning to think Hikaru was the black sheep of the family. The rest of the Hitachiin's came off to loud and friendly.

She awkwardly sat beside her. "You wanted to talk about some sort of business proposition?"

Yazuha chuckled. "Straight to the point. I _like_ you."

He sat back, crossing her legs. "Actually it's about my son."

"Is this about what happened in that video?"

"It is." She leaned over and reached for one of the magazines off the coffee table, Haruhi had to guess was also crystal. "But I guess I should explain the situation before I get to that part."

Haruhi watched as she poured herself another glass of water.

"You've already met Hikaru-"

" _Yes_." She muttered distastefully.

Unlike Kaoru, Yazuha just laughed, immediately understanding.

"He's rather a shut in. He doesn't go out as much as he used to so I suppose his people skills deteriorated a bit." She smiled. "I apologize in his behalf if he gave you a bad impression."

"I didn't exactly have high expectations," _considering his charge_ Haruhi admitted. "But I have no intention of our relationship effecting the case. If that's what you're worried about."

"You just keep getting better." She commented fondly. "And actually it's quite the opposite. I'm not concerned about that at all. Hikaru has a lot lose with this lawsuit so I know he'll learn to cope being in the spotlight again and shape up."

"But I am worried," she said. "Hikaru's very... paranoid. After the scandal with his last lawyer, he lives on his own now, and I never really get to see him anymore. He doesn't even have any kind of security for himself. And some people caught wind of that. It makes him an easy target for mobs. As you've noticed."

Haruhi nodded, noticing her empathize how- as Kaoru worded it earlier- delicate Hikaru was. And couldn't help but feel were was some sort of hidden meaning in her words.

Yazuha turned to her.

"Which is why I want to offer you a job."

* * *

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	10. Chapter 9

**My Muse**

Chapter 9

* * *

 _"A bodyguard?"_

 _Yazuha was still smiling brightly as she nodded. "I've already talked to your boss. He said it wouldn't interfere with your work schedule as long as it's only until Hikaru's case is over."_

 _Behind her smile, her eyes seemed to be begging. "After the case is over, you'll be able to go about your work as normal." She added. "And don't worry! I plan on paying you of course. I don't want this to seem like a favor."_

 _Haruhi looked at the floor unsure. She almost let a loud 'yes!' slip,_ _after hearing how much Yazuha was actually willing to pay, but bit her tongue. And when she mentioned the hours she'd be working, she almost choked. Eleven hours? It was another full time job._

 _"I'm not exactly... bodyguard material." She muttered quietly. She was a security guard, sure, but only for a small shopping mall. She spent most of her time with her hands in her pockets, reminding kids not to steal candy. They didn't even require her to take a physical._

 _That went right over Yazuha's head, but her expression fell for the first time, as she started to refill her glass a second time._

 _"To be honest, I use "bodyguard" very lightly." She said, kneading the fabric of her skirt. "It's mostly for Kaoru. I know they're big kids and can take care of themselves, but ever since Hikaru's stopped working here, Kaoru has never really been able to put out his best towards the company, because he spends so much time with him."_

 _"His debut show is coming up in a few months. It really means a lot to him." She explained. "He needs to make it his main priority so it goes well, and I know he won't be able to do that, worrying about Hikaru the way he does."_

 _"Wait," Haruhi said before she could stop herself, knowing where this_ _was_ lea _ding. "You... want me to babysit him?"_

 _Yazuha smiled at her understanding. "Let's just say... Kaoru's really particular to how Hikaru's taken care of, but he spoke very highly of you after that... little video (Haruhi cringed) got around, so I know he'd feel better if he knew you were... watching over Hikaru."_

 _"I say bodyguard, so that they won't bite my head off." She sudden chuckled._

 _"And... Hikaru really can't take care of himself?"_

 _"I'm most certain he can," she wanted to laugh. She really did. But she didn't. "It's just..." She paused, thinking over her new few words very carefully. "Hikaru was diagnosed with dysthymia in college, so it isn't really a matter of whether he can or not. It's just... hard for him sometimes."_

 _Haruhi felt a rush of panic. Understanding what taking care of him finally meant. "I- I wouldn't make a good nurse either" She stuttered. "I don't even know CPR."_

 _When Yazuha laughed again, Haruhi felt physically drained. "Oh, no. It's nothing like that."_

 _"See," Yazuha muttered, turning to a painting hung on the wall above her desk, as she trailed off. "Hikaru has depression..."_

* * *

'i didn't need to know that...'

That thought occurred to her, as Haruhi stepped back from the metal doorbell, and waited. It wasn't often that she let a sad life story get to her. She had seen plenty of sad stories. She could ignore Hikaru's.

She couldn't however, ignore the agreement check floating in the back of her wallet.

There had been a knot in her stomach ever since she left the Hitachiin's warehouse two days ago. Since when had she gotten so desperate for money? This feeling made her sick.

 _This was a bad idea_. She stiffened, hearing the door unlock. _I don't even know what I'm supposed to do_.

The door opened, and she was forced to swallow her words before she had accidentally said them out loud. She tightened her hand around the handle of her briefcase and straightened her back, preparing for his cold front. No matter what, she was going to set boundaries and dominance. She wasn't going to back out, because she wasn't going to let him get to her.

But their eyes met, and he surprised her. Again. His shirt was wrinkled, and the ends of his hair were bent and stuck out in every direction. His skin was flushed, and his eyes were red. It was already almost nine, and he looked as though he had just rolled out of bed.

It really was amazing, what he could hide behind those sunglasses.

Hikaru's eyes took their time, traveling from her shoes to her face. Noting that there wasn't a single crease in her hideous skirt suit, and every perfect hair that wasn't out of place. She looked exactly the same as she did the last time he'd seen her. Perfect _._ He kind of hated it.

He looked down at her shirt and mused, that _no_ , she never did get the coffee stains out.

She opened her mouth, uncomfortable under the silence staring, but he stopped her.

"You really are a lot of things, aren't you?" He muttered.

Haruhi hesitated, not sure if she should take that as an insult.

"Don't take this out of context," she said. "It wasn't my idea."

"I _know_ ," he grumbled, opening the door for her to step inside. His chest tightened under his shirt as she stepped past him, and she tried not to look, as it just now dawned on her that she was stepping inside the house of an accused assaulter. Honestly, this hadn't been her brightest couple of days.

His house was just as she imagined the inside of a rich person's house would look like. Tall ceilings and _very_ expensive. But it was soft, and unlike the other places she'd been recently that were associated with him, she didn't feel intimidated by how out of place she was. Everything was a warm beige, from the couch and the carpet, and smelt like pine. Where there wasn't tall, draped windows, large framed paintings were hung, high on the walls.

But what stood out to her was the second head of fiery red hair, sitting at one of the kitchen bar stools. And surprisingly, _he_ was the one who looked angry.

Kaoru stood up at the sight of her, and tried to hide any traces of his and Hikaru's argument on his face, as he turned his lips in his charming, very fake smile.

Haruhi looked between the twins, and wasn't sure what to think anymore.

"You're always on time," Kaoru said, amused. "Hikaru was just about to leave for work."

Hikaru made a face from over her shoulder, as if to say, _no,_ he _wasn't_ , but Kaoru ignore him.

"Don't give each other a hard time, okay?" He looked at Hikaru specifically. "And _call_... if you need me."

"Jesus Christ, Kaoru."

"And change your shirt," he continued, firmer this time, as he reached over to straighten his collar. "You look like a slob. Did Miako not go to the dry cleaners? _Honestly_."

"No one can tell."

" _I_ can tell."

Haruhi glanced down at her watch as the two of them lowered their voices, speaking softer as Kaoru reminded him of something about their father, while rubbing his face and trying to pass him a bottle of moisturizer he pulled out of his pocket, as Hikaru tried to push him away.

"Guys," she sighed. So much for having a schedule. "We're going to be _late_."

The twins looked at her as though she was interrupting something very intimate, before Kaoru reluctantly pulled away, swiping his thumb across Hikaru's chapped lips.

"I have work anyway," he shrugged. "I fired the leading model the other day, and Mother's been on my case all morning."

Hikaru didn't react as Kaoru leaned over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. He bid his goodbyes to them both before eventually finding his way out the door, and Hikaru turned to her, once they were finally alone.

Haruhi cowered under his stare again, and how his eyes were fixed steadily on her face, as if he was expecting something.

" _I'm_ not going to kiss you." She said after awhile, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Let's get this over with." He heaved.

Watching him rip his bag off the back of the couch, and shrug out his keys with a curse under his breath, Haruhi couldn't help but feel the same way.

* * *

Haruhi walked patiently behind Hikaru's slow strides through Ito-Co's lobby.

All eyes were on her from the few young receptionists lined along the wall, an old wondering executive, and a group of old women. She heard them whispering but she could hear them from across the hall, so they must not have been trying to be very discreet.

She was careful in avoiding a hunched old man who stood planted o the floor like an angry statue and watched as his eyes followed them until they turned the corner out of his sight.

She hated the feeling of being watched, and ironically, ever sine meeting Hikaru, she'd felt it a lot lately.

"I haven't felt this famous since high school." She murmured.

Hikaru said nothing, and she'd noticed he hadn't said anything since they left his house that morning. It made their drive down together awkward, but the last thing she knew how to do was strike a conversation with someone like him. Especially now. The way his face curled the moment he stepped into the building unnerved her, and he looked even less approachable.

The Hikaru Hitachiin she first met reemerged in almost a blink of an eye. It was like he had created his own persona of himself, and he was trying way too hard to fill into shoes that didn't fit him.

The doors of the elevator opened to two older women, They gasped, and ducked their heads as they hurriedly scurried passed them at the sight of Hikaru. One spat out a name towards him before the elevator doors shut between them.

"The _devil_." Haruhi parroted, once they were alone, wondering if she heard right. "They're subtle."

Maybe that persona wasn't his; but everyone else's.

They apparently gave it a name, too.

Hikaru had tucked himself into a corner. Grabbing onto the support railing. Watching the veins in his hands. He used to laugh when they all called him that. Now it was exhausting, and every time they said it, felt like they were stomping on his chest.

Haruhi was facing him. Her brow was slanted, as she focused on every movement of his hands, and his shifting off each foot. Her eyes looked deep, but her face was blank. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking, he just wished she'd stop looking at him.

The doors finally opened, greeting them to a wide hall. The two men, both peppered with age and bitterness, that were talking by the large window with coffee immediately lowered their voices to grumbles and turned away as if Hikaru disgusted them. They were two directors of the board, who were at the top of his kill list, so it was obvious they were one ones having the biggest fit.

He felt overheated by all the stares and abhorrent sneers. The seniors had turned into rabid dogs and their words were starting to suffocate him, so much he almost collapsed into his office as he opened the door.

He threw his bag down on the floor and as if that was a switch, his chair spun around.

Fujibayashi smiled. "Good morning."

Haruhi looked up towards Hikaru. His face was unreadable, as though it was still loading.

He took in his surroundings and figured he must've walked into the wrong room. Everything was was either misplaced or gone but his brain didn't completely click until he noticed how the wallpaper was faded where Kaoru's portrait used to hang.

"What's going on?" He demanded.

His secretary was standing beside the desk next to Daichi, with an uncomfortable look on her face. She turned away when he looked at her, eyes asking her to explain.

Fujibayashi looked surprised. "I thought you _knew_. The office comes with the job."

Hikaru turned back to him, teeth digging into his cheek. " _What_?"

"I didn't expect it either." He said. "It has something to do with positions and not wanting to confuse the floor staff. I tried to talk to your father out of it, said it'd be _far_ too stressful for you to move across the building, but he said you'd understand."

"But don't worry," Daichi added. " _I_ know you have a stress problem, so I made sure all your things were moved to your new department so you wouldn't have to worry about a _thing_."

Hikaru walked up to the desk, and both Haruhi and his secretary sensed he was about to detonate and moved to step between them, but stopped, and watched him closely as he slowly picked up a file, that was half hidden under Fujibayashi's computer.

It looked oddly familiar to his file with the design layout for the _Reverse Project_.

He paused to breathe, just to stop himself from throwing it into his face.

"What's _this_?"

Fujibayashi barely faltered. "Must've missed something."

" _Fuck you_."

Haruhi grabbed his arm, and started to pull him back, but he ripped away, and stormed for the door. He was already gone before she could get a word out to him, and got halfway to the door before a voice stopped her.

"You must be, Fujioka."

She turned. Fujibayashi was looking at her, with his chin propped up on his knuckles, as he stared at her through his grey lashes. Behind his square spectacles, a smirk tugged on his lips. He looked entertained.

She really hated when men looked at her that way.

"You're the big shot lawyer everyone's been talking about, aren't you?" He said, already knowing the answer. "The company's been worried about who it would be, handling that Hitachiin's case."

"I heard a lot about you. It's good to have heard he's in capable hands," he admitted. "But it's a pleasure to meet you in person."

Haruhi cause the secretary's awkward look, and fiddled with her briefcase, that he just noticed, was starting to get very _heavy_.

"Yes," she muttered, "A pleasure, Mr. Fujibayashi."

"I hear you're also Hikaru's escort." He added humorously. "We're all very old here. That little incident gave everyone a scare."

"I hope your Niece is doing well," she blurted out. Just itching to get out of his sight, but even more wanting to stop his path of dangerous questions. "It's unfortunate... what's happened. I hope this is all resolved quickly. For her sake."

He hesitated. Not from loss of words, but just to stare. He looked at her, up and down, from her shoes to her face, staring deeply and Haruhi felt compiled clutch her shirt closed.

"Yes. As do I." He answered.

"As you can see, I'm in a difficult situation," he said, just as she pulled the door open to let herself out. "For the sake of the company, it's in everyone's best interest for the Hitachiin to win this case. And for it to be over with quickly."

Haruhi swallowed the words she wanted to say, and instead forced her very fake smile she was starting to really hate. "I can assure you, Mr. Fujibayashi, I have no intention of losing this case."

He raised his head, for his hand to grasp his cup of coffee. "Good to hear."

"Now if you'll excuse me."

He gestured to the door, but she didn't notice. She stepped into the hall, looking for Hikaru, and luckily it wasn't hard to find which way he went, from the way a short woman was gawking down the hallway, staring at the floor as if he left a trail of fire.

But he wasn't in the elevator, and felt helplessly lost as she stumbled around the lobby, getting trampled people much taller than her, wearing shoes much sharper than hers, and almost getting ran over by a supply dolly.

Everyone was barking orders or yelling into a phone, that she couldn't hear him, but eventually, spotted his unruly red hair in the corner, just as he finished signing something on a young girl's clipboard. He took one look at her from over his shoulder and and turned the other way, heading towards the front door, and didn't catch up to him until he was halfway down the sidewalk.

" _Hey_ ," she called out to him, but he didn't stop until she grabbed his hand. Then, he whirled around so fast she almost fell over. "Are you okay?"

"You don't have to follow me," he tisked. "I'm going home."

She started to panic. For some reason, the last thing she wanted was him out of her sight.

"Come... come get coffee with me." She practically choked. "We'll talk."

" _Talk?_ Is this some lame attempt to make me _feel_ better?" He scoffed but quickly looked away, feeling unusually self-conscious under her eyes. "I'm _fine_. I don't care about him. I figured this would happen anyway-"

"I _said_ ," she jerked him back and he bit back a scream. "We'll _talk_."

"Please," she whispered.

His eyes were wide as he looked down at how tight she was holding onto his hand. It felt desperate, and her eyes were pleading. He wanted to pull away to insist he was the boss and she couldn't just drag him around however she wanted, but his hand contradicted that, as he still hadn't pulled away from her, and if she really did want to drag him around, he'd probably let her.

"...Okay." He said quietly.

They held each other's gaze for a few pregnant seconds. Both surprised that they let themselves stay so long, and after a few more moments of a silent, behavioral lecture, Haruhi cleared her throat and tucked her now warm hand under her arm.

"Are you going to make _rescuing me_ a habit?" He smirked after awhile. " _Careful_. I might get used to it."

She ignored him.

* * *

 **Hello! just to pop in.**

 **For those who were wondering about the Company that Hikaru works at: "Ito-Co" is named after the twin's father's former surname. (In the manga, Mr. Hitachiin took Yazuha's last name when they married, and in this story he used to be "Mr. Ito."**

 **(Since we don't know Mr. Hitachiin's first name, and I couldn't think of a name that wouldn't sound cheesy, He'll only be known as Mr. Hitachiin in this story;;)**

 **I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am! tootles.**

 **Please Remember to fav/Follow/Review!**  
 **I always appreciate your comments and support!**


	11. Chapter 10

**My Muse**

 _Chapter 10_

* * *

 _"You still haven't signed it yet?"_

 _Hikaru sighed as warm hands pulled him flush against his chair and arms slithered around his shoulders before he even registered that he was being talked to._

 _Fingers kneading right between his shoulders._ _He closed his eyes as he finally started to relax, for the first time that day until, "It's been three days," she mentioned, and felt his eyes roll up towards his forehead._

 _"I don't know about it anymore," he admitted, and could feel her fingers tense._

 _"You're so self conscious," Airi said, and laid her chin on his shoulder. "You know when you start overthinking it, you'll start to change your mind."_

 _Hikaru looked down, where his pen was starting to put a dent in his finger. "But Kaoru said-"_

 _"But Kaoru isn't here," she quickly interrupted him, the after a moment, softened her voice. "He's always telling you what to do."_

 _He frowned. That was true..._

 _Airi turned his chair, before slipping into his lap. She took his arm and looped it around her waist, and snatched the pen out of his hand, pressing a free finger to his lips, forcing him to swallow his protest._

 _"The construction wont take long. As soon as we hand the contract in, it'll be finished within next year." She said, in a tone that made it sound like no big deal. And maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was overreacting._

 _"Nine months at least," she paused before fondly mumbling against his ear. "It's like our baby."_

 _"A two billion yen baby," Hikaru grumbled._

 _"It'll be worth it."_

 _Her finger tips ran tenderly over his stubble, and for a moment, he thought he could dodge signing the contract for another day, as she started to melt in his arms, and felt her breath feather across his lips._

 _"It's everything we've ever wanted," she whispered, sneaking under his guard to touch the chilled skin under his collar, pulling his face forward by his hair._

 _"Besides, I'm here with you," she reassured him, and took his hand, resting it on her thigh, just below the rim of his skirt. She was being distracting again. "We'll do this together."_

 _Hikaru looked down at the building plans on his desk again, unsure. "If... it's what you want-"_

 _"Don't say it like that, it sounds depressing." She smiled, tilting his chin to smudge one glittery matte kiss against his lips, before pulling away. "You want this too."_

* * *

"You want this?"

Hikaru opened his eyes to a dirty sidewalk and a pair of faded old shoes. He looked up, confused, almost forgetting where he was.

 _She_ was standing in front of him, with her hand stretched out to him and stared blankly at the cup that was shoved near his face.

Ah right... _coffee._

"I didn't ask for anything," he said stiffly, and judging by the looks of the cafe that was behind them, he probably wouldn't like it either.

Haruhi only shrugged. "Buy one get one free."

She held it out to him until he finally took it, then sat down beside him with a long, drawn out sigh as she finally relaxed.

He watched her skeptically, treading his fingers over the Styrofoam cup. There was _something_ about her that he couldn't quite put his fingers on.

His survival instincts flickered like a broken switch. One moment she was trembling, and holding his hand, but as soon as they entered her atmosphere her backbone grew back, and she went straight back to treating him like another one of her criminals.

Neither of them said anything as Haruhi pulled her bag into her lap and started to write something down in what he recognized as his _file_ , and suddenly felt like he was on death row, and whatever she had written in that file was what was keeping him from being sentenced to his death. The silence was so awkward it was painful, as she scratched and bit at her pencil, only glancing up at him occasionally, as though to confirm something she was unsure about.

And almost fifteen minutes and and an entire downed cup of black coffee later, he folded his arms and leaned back, wondering what the purpose of inviting him out was for. She didn't look the least bit interested to talk to him.

"So," he started, and watched as her pencil stopped just above her paper. "Are you going to to tell me what _that_ was about?"

She turned, looking genuinely confused. " _What_?"

"You were shaking coming out of the lobby just now," he said, and she frowned. "Did something happen?"

Haruhi stared at him for a moment, before choking on a breath as she turned back to her papers. "Nothing happen."

"Didn't look like nothing," He muttered back. "You looked pretty desperate to get out of there."

"He just," she didn't want to admit it out loud. She really didn't. "He makes me uncomfortable." And when it finally rolled off her tongue, it _burned_.

"Who?"

" _Fujibayashi_."

Hikaru looked away, scoffing. "He makes _everyone_ uncomfortable."

"I can't tell who's side he's on in this." She said quietly.

"Nobody's," he spat suddenly, making her flinch. "All he cares about is the _company_."

"I suppose that's an important aspect in this too."

"Except it isn't it's not _his_ company," he said curtly. "It's _mine_."

"This is about him taking your job, isn't it?"

"I bet he's manipulating my _father_." He thought out loud, spitting his words like venom. "He's always been his favorite."

" _Anyway_ ," she sighed inwardly, seeing them start to veer off track. "While we're here. We can talk about the hearing on Wednesday."

He heaved. "I _guess_."

"You need to take this _seriously_." She said, stiffly, then everything else she said fell on deaf ears.

He _was_ taking this seriously, he wanted to say, but nothing came out. It was all he could think of all week. It kept him from sleeping. It was all he and Kaoru argued about this morning. It's the _only_ thing they've argued about lately. _Of course_ he was taking this seriously. He was scared. He was just surprised his face didn't show it.

"You're not going to to say anything unless me or the judge asks you personally," He finally heard her say in between his thoughts, "and you aren't allowed to answer any of the other attorney's questions unless I approve of them or if you're called into the stand."

He blinked, wishing he'd payed attention. There was no way he'd actually remember her rules, but he nodded and pretended anyway.

"Out of curiosity," he let out a breath, "how many sexual assaults cases have you _done_?"

"Six."

"And how many have you _won_?"

"One."

Hikaru almost choked. "Just _one_?"

"Assaulter's tend to be _liars_ ," her voice was like acid, and she directed towards him. "And if they're _lying_ there's nothing I can do about it."

He knew he didn't do anything wrong. He just didn't have any proof, and he knew no one would believe him. His constant ' _I don't remember_ ' was starting to to sound more and more pathetic, but now it started to dawn on him that if he so much as uttered that in court, it would mean the same as stamping ' _I'm_ _guilty'_ on his own forehead, and that terrified him. Because that was all he had.

He felt his hands start to shake and hid them into his jacket.

Haruhi curled her nose against the awkward silence that sudden fell on them again and opened his file. She felt as though she should try to comfort him, which gave her a weird sensation in her chest. He was, in essence, guilty until she could prove him innocent, she shouldn't _feel_ sorry for him.

And it bothered her that she did.

She looked down at the file that laid open in her lap. "Who's willing to testify for you?" She asked.

He barely inhaled enough to speak before she cut him off. "Don't say, _Kaoru_."

Hikaru closed his mouth.

"Is it stupid to assume you have a girlfriend?"

" _No_ ," he said firmly, mildly offended. "And I _don't_."

She sighed. "Do you have any _friends_?"

"I don't want to involve _them_." He insisted, as if that idea was out of the question. "I don't want them there."

She shut the file, impatiently. "You're not even _trying._ I can't do _everything._ "

"I'm under a lot of _stress_ ," he exclaimed and she inched away, he was so loud, an old couple sitting a few benches down started to glare at them. "I don't _know_ what to do. I'm _two billion_ yen in debt, I'm being sued, that old _hag_ is taking my inheritance, my whole company hates me, and now my own _mother_ hired me a _babysitter_ , because she doesn't think I have the mental stability to walk to and from my car by myself. _Granted_ , I take so much medication I can't even hear myself think."

Haruhi frowned. "And acting like that is going to make us both the _laughing_ stocks of that courtroom."

"I don't _care_."

When she didn't reply, he leaned over on his knees, hiding his face in his hands, closing his eyes in pain, knowing he blew up again. And Haruhi took it as a sign that continuing was going to be a loss cause, and fell back into the back of the bench, watching him closely like he was a unpredictable camp fire that could very easily get out of control _very_ fast.

* * *

 _"I worry about him," Yazuha sighed softly, turning away from the painting. "We... had a falling out a few months ago. I'd like to check in on him once in awhile, but he hasn't wanted to talk to me since, so I'm a little desperate."_

 _"He's a good guy, really, he's just... troubled." she added. "He has these episodes sometimes and... one time he really hurt himself. After his debut, I plan to retire and give the company over to Kaoru, but he knows there a lot of work to put into it, and I know he won't take it because of his brother. When this is all over, I plan to take care of them both, like I'm supposed to, but I can't be a mom and a CEO."_

 _She reached for her hand, and Haruhi felt herself slowly giving in. "I know this is a lot to ask, but I promise he isn't that monster they make him out to be in the papers. You don't have to be scared of him."_

 _Haruhi looked down, eyes gluing to the framed picture of the twins of the table. Except it looked more like a magazine clipping than a photograph. They were both in expensive grey suits and hung off each other in a loose hug, smiling, staring into each others faces like they were the only ones in the world. She had no problem telling them from each other now, but in this photo they looked identical. Must be old. She figured._

 _"But," she breathed, finding it hard to look away from it. For some reason, there was something familiar about them. "Why me?"_

 _"I mean-" she tried again, "there has to be someone he'd feel more comfortable with. I barely know him."_

 _Yazuha hesitated. As if to consider that. Because she was right, but after a moment of smiling to herself, she looked back. "Because you're good." She said. "There's very few people in Hikaru's life that are, and there's even less people he feels completely comfortable with. And there's just something about you that tells me... that you'd be one of them."_

 _She squeezed her hand one last time, to conclude._

 _"I know he wouldn't be afraid of you."_

* * *

"If you're not going to do this for yourself, then do it for everyone else," Haruhi said at last, her voice tempered with a convincing gentleness. "If you walk into that courtroom without even trying to put up a fight, _everyone_ is going to view you as a criminal, and they're going to _treat_ you like a criminal, and how do you think that'd make your mother feel?"

Hikaru opened his eyes behind his fingers. "She told you, _didn't_ she?"

She looked up.

"Figures," he growled when she didn't reply. "You're not special. She's even told the mail man. Like it's some kind of sick joke. I'm not _fucking_ disab-"

" _Hey_ ," he jumped as she reached over and took his hand before he could tear out of his seat. "I'm not here to follow you around twenty-four-seven, and tuck you into bed every night. Whatever you have isn't my business and the judge isn't going to care what you're going through."

"You're not the only one with problems." This time, he flinched. "My fiancee spent our life savings just to walk through the _door_ of a stupid art gallery. I could barely afford to live in town as it is, and now I'm too weeks late on my rent. Not to mention I'm on my last strike at my firm, and your case is my shot at redemption, so whether we win or lose, if this hearing doesn't at least go _smoothly_ , I could lose my job. So yeah, life s _ucks_."

" _But_ ," she added, as though it was physically painful. She squeezed her fingers around his knuckles and leaned so far he had to sit back or else they'd breathe the same air. It made his mouth go dry.

"I'm your attorney," she said firmly, and he felt his chest clench. "And if you're telling the _truth_ , and you didn't do it, I'm going to do everything I can to prove it everyone in that courtroom. We're _winning_ that case, I just can't do it _by_ _myself_."

Hikaru tore his gaze away, before her eyes could completely tear him apart. He felt her hand slip away, and wanted to pull her back, but that one grabbing word, _fiance_ , made him shift to the furthest edge of the bench.

He cleared his throat, noticing a sudden uncomfortable friction in his pants after trying to cross his legs. He started to sweat, and started to itch where his jacket sat on his shoulders. _Damn it._

Haruhi turned to him again, raising her brow. Apparently he had muttered that out loud. " _What_?"

He closed his eyes, trying to think of a way how he could possibly blame this on someone besides himself. Preferably Kaoru.

" _Nothing_."

* * *

Kaoru swung open the door to Hikaru's house, whistling the last tune he heard on the radio, with a pretty pink bag hanging off the crook of his elbow. Nothing particularly interesting happened to him that day, so there really wasn't anything to talk to Hikaru about that couldn't be talked about over a phone call. He was just on his way home when he drove past a bakery and thought Hikaru might want a cake.

It wasn't to check on him, he had sworn to his mother, after she had complained to him about being late for dinner. In fact, he lied and said he had a dentist appointment. Her fault for believing it.

But his careless whistling came to a painful halt as he bit his tongue when a loud " _fucking bastard_ " erupted from the kitchen.

He scoffed. _At least he's home._

He entered the main room just in time to see a stiff arm clear everything of the counter. Papers flew, flying around him, littering the living room with bank statements and blueprints. The tantrum finished off with another a compilation of nasty swears and a kicked over bar stool.

Hikaru slumped over the island, his fingers rubbing into his forehead and gripping his hair, threatening to tear it out.

"What'd you _want_?" He groaned after a moment, already sensing his presence.

Kaoru cringed, not sure if his timing was good or bad. "I brought _cake_?" Then looked around, seeing shards of glass in the carpet, from the cup his brother shoved off the table. "Are... you okay?"

" _Great_ ," Hikaru strained, most likely from lack of voice. He must've shouted till it was raw. "Never been better."

"Uh-huh," Kaoru mumbled, doubtful as he placed the cake a safe distant away from Hikaru's arm swinging, when he noticed his knuckles between thin wefts of his hair, they were red and bruised and almost choked. "What _happened_?"

Hikaru's eyes barely gestured to the black file on the floor, and muttered in a whisper. "He stole everything."

He left the possibility hanging, so it could have been anyone, but Kaoru decided to take a wild guess. " _Fujibayashi_?"

"I found it in his office this morning," he said, nearly spitting out ' _his_ ' like it was fire. The fact that he'd also stolen his office was clearly still fresh. Kaoru raised his brow and bent to pick up the file. It was stuffed full of papers, and didn't look like anything could be missing.

Then his stomach churned. "The _Reverse Project_?"

"He didn't _take_ anything," Hikaru spat, before mentioning that everything in the file _used_ to be alphabetically ordered, and now, _wasn't_. "He must've... made a copy of everything before putting it back. He hated not having his damn nose shoved into everything."

Kaoru frowned. "It's not like you to not put this kind of thing on a hard drive."

"I _did_ ," he retorted, then hesitated. "These were _Cheiko's_ notes."

"You think she gave them to him?"

"She wouldn't have done that," He said that as firmly as he did the first time. "She was the one who said not to tell him about it."

"Are you afraid he might try to execute it? I doubt dad is going to let any big projects launch because of the lawsuit." Kaoru said, with a gentle tone that seemed to be programmed especially just for Hikaru. He leaned over, perching his hands on the stiff knot in his shoulders. "And when _that's_ settled, you'll have your job back and even if he _knows_ about it, he won't be able to _do_ anything. It'll be okay."

Hikaru grumbled, willingly sinking over the counter as Kaoru continued his massage. "I _hate_ him."

Kaoru nodded, waiting a moment before he changed the subject. " _So_... how was your day with, _Haruhi_? She's great isn't she? I like her."

He let out a throaty sign. "I _guess_." Then, for the sake of his dignity, added carelessly. "I didn't really notice her."

Kaoru snorted, smirking knowingly. " _Sure_ you didn't."

" _What_?"

" _Nothing_ , nothing."

* * *

 **Please Remember to fav/Follow/Review!**  
 **I always appreciate your comments and support!**


	12. Chapter 11

**My Muse**

 _Chapter 11_

* * *

Hikaru shifted, still half asleep. There was something jarring him in the side. It wasn't enough to make him want to get up, but once his eyes opened he had a nagging feeling that he had somewhere to be.

 _What day is it?_

He turned on his side. The stiff couch pillow muffling his bitter groan. _What time is it?_

He flicked a post-it note off his cheek and lifted himself on his hands, eyes trying to register where he'd woken up this time. He looked down, the edge of his laptop still jabbing him in the side, as it hung off the couch.

With one more shift, it tumbled to the floor.

There was a crinkle as he sat up. Papers crumbling beneath him. He shrugged a paper out from under his elbow and threw his head back with another groan. They were his notes for the hearing. _Was that today?_

His eyes rolled to his watch that was practically embedded into his wrist. _An hour til?_

 _Great._

Figuring it was already too late and his lawyer was going to shout at him regardless, he took his time dragging himself up the stairs.

His forced his fingers through his hair, and brushed his teeth. It'd been awhile. The toothpaste burned and his gums bled. Then he opened his carefully assorted closet. Courtesy from Kaoru he could only guess. A cream colored suit hung in front, it must've been the one Kaoru told him to wear today, but there was no way he was wearing _that_. Kaoru would notice how pale he'd gotten. He threw it aside and shrugged out the blackest suit he could find.

The next time he glanced at a clock, it was half an hour after Haruhi told him to arrive, and the closer he got to the courthouse, the tighter his throat squeezed. He was suffocating. He felt sick. He could see himself already. Blubbering in front of the judge. What was he going to say? What _could_ he say? If _"I don't remember"_ made it past his teeth one more time, he'd puke.

Hikaru glanced out the passenger window as he pulled up to the curb. He could see Haruhi standing at the base of the stairs, leading to the courthouse. She was distracted by something in her hand, as she didn't glance up at the sound if his car.

"Haruhi, huh?" he muttered under a breath, looking at her closely. She didn't look like anything special. And the way she fumbled with a piece of paper as he watched her worried him. She was already so small, yet today she looked even smaller. Was his fate really relying on her? How pitiful was he that his life had stooped this low.

You'd better be one hell of a lawyer.

"You're late." She snapped, the second he shut his door, and he sighed.

"I know."

Her face curled, rolling her eyes from his shoes all the way up to his hair and back down. He looked different today. With his hair brushed back, dressed in a pressed black suit, collar embroidered with tiny golden roses. He looked like Kaoru.

He cleans up nicely at least. she thought amusedly. It must be the sunglasses.

Speaking of dress code..

"Take 'em off." She grumbled, but before he heard what she said, she was already on her tiptoes in front of him. Her fingers nimbly sliding his new aviators off his nose. He squinted but he didn't stop her, and suddenly, he didn't look like a stranger anymore.

His cheeks were colorless but his eyes were red and shadowed with fat blushish lines. It seemed almost fitting now.

But still. Kind of sad.

She opened her mouth.

"Where's Kaoru?" He interrupted her knowing she was staring again. "Is he here yet?"

"Inside." She mumbled.

"Checking out the competition?"

"The Fujibayashi's haven't shown yet."

Hikaru frowned. "So I'm _not_ late?"

"No, because I told you to be here at nine-thirty. It's Ten fifteen now."

"Let me guess. You like to be here before the building even _opens_?"

She stiffened. " _So_?"

"You're too perfect," He exhaled, stepping past her. But it made her stop and think. What was _that_ supposed to mean? "Don't worry, after today, you won't have to wait up for me anymore. We won't have to see each other _ever_ again."

For some reason that left a stale taste in her mouth. _Ever again?_ That seemed harsh.

She looked up, watching his back as he tackled the stairs. He walked with a lag. The bottoms of his shoes grazing the concrete, forcing himself up every step. She knew that look. She never had a client who was _happy_ to walk up those stairs. It was a scary place, and he looked scared.

But today, something felt different.

Today, she felt scared too.

 _Strange._ It'd been awhile since- _No_.

 _No._

She smacked her cheeks to stop herself from thinking anymore.

The last thing she wanted was to get emotionally invested again.

She _couldn't_ do that again.

Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she looked up, and he was staring at her from the door. His brow raised.

"You can hold my hand if you're nervous." He said, a teasing glint in his eye.

She scoffed, fixing the look on her face. "I should be asking _you_ that."

"Are you offering?"

"You're a big boy, I'm sure you can handle it."

"You'd be surprised."

"Well try to keep it together for me. Don't get emotional." She said after a moment, but she couldn't lie, just watching him twiddle his thumbs made her anxious.

He opened the door for her, and she caught the distressed look on his face from over her shoulder, and had to wonder if she looked like that too, and quickly tried to force a smile, but couldn't imagine that it looked any better.

"What?" She muttered quietly.

"It's just," he started, then hesitated, face contorting in a way that looked like he were in pain. "I didn't want to do this today."

"Don't worry too much, It's just a preliminary hearing." She said. "If you're lucky, you might actually get off scot-free today."

At this point he doubted it. "Good to know." He heaved.

The courthouse had an intimidating atmosphere. Like everything did _, and God_ he hated it. He hated the way everyone turned to him the moment he walked through the door. He hated the way they whispered like he couldn't hear them. "Is that _Hikaru Hitachiin?", "_ I'm not _surprised.",_ "Just _look_ at him." "And _Fujioka_?" "Yeah, she sure knows how to _pick 'em_."

Haruhi didn't seem to notice. That or she was used to it, but he figured he must be putting on quite a show. His hands were shaking, and could his heart in his throat. He felt sick, and it must've sent out a silent all for help, as he practically ran right into his brother when they stepped into the courtroom.

It made him feel better knowing he wasn't the only one sitting on a ball of nerves. Kaoru clung to him, fussing over his suit and hair, only going to their designated seats when Haruhi told them to be quiet.

"Just look at me. Don't look at them." She said under her breath, as everyone else started to flood into the room, and he took it very literally. Looking at her face, her lap, her shoes, watching her hands closely as she folded them over his thin folder, trying to soak up even just a part of her calm demeanor.

" _All rise_."

Until they all stood, and he glanced ominously over her head. Finally he noticed Cheiko sitting across the aisle and his heart stopped.

She faced straight forward, dressed and hiding inside her heavy coat, but he could see her cheek, swollen and blemished blue and purple. Did _he_ do that?

He looked down at his right hand where his cut had healed, wishing it were still bleeding.

The judge then said something, but he didn't hear him and Haruhi had to pull him back into his seat.

The judge looked onward, with his chin propped on his hand, looking half asleep. "Plaintiff Miss Fujibayashi is suing Defendant Mr. Hitachiin for harassment and sexual assault. Compensation of one million yen for emotional distress unless otherwise decided."

He bagged his gravel against his desk. "Mr. Hayashi, if you'll state your client's case."

The man sitting next to Cheiko, who he guessed was her lawyer, stood up, poised, holding his paperwork in his hands like a weapon. He felt Haruhi tense at the sight of him, watching her nails dig into her hand.

Hayashi held his gaze on her, only turning to the judge when she started to recoil into her seat.

"Your honor, on August 3rd, at the Ginko Winery, my client invited Mr. Hitachiin into her hotel room presumably around _10:00pm,_ to discuss matters revolving his company, where he then coaxed Miss Fujibayashi into drinking and tried force her to take off her clothes. When she didn't comply, he got violent, struck in her in the face once and pinned her to the couch, leaving bruises on her wrist and forearm. It was near midnight when Miss Fujibayashi finally left the hotel, _alone_. They did not have any further relations since that night."

He paused to glance down at Haruhi, before pulling out another paper. "These are pictures of the injuries-"

"That won't be necessary," the judge interrupted him, just as Hayashi held the paper pointedly in front of Haruhi specifically, before turning his dirty grey mustache up at him. "Do you have something to add to this Mr. Hitachiin?"

Before Hikaru had the chance to open his mouth, not that he knew what to say, Haruhi stood up. "Your honor, If I could speak on Mr. Hitachiin's behalf?"

"Proceed."

"My client doesn't remember ever leaving the bar with Fujibayashi, much less the time they spent in the hotel room, so it really is just her words against her own. And it's a little hard to believe Miss Fujibayashi would invite him to her hotel room so late at night just to talk about work."

"Your honor, this is v _ictim sham_ -"

"And you say that he only hit her once, and the pictures show bruising on her left cheek." She added, surprisingly pacific as she interrupted him,"But those marks don't match the ones on her left cheek _now_."

The judge quirked an eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?"

"That these images are _fabricated and there's more to this than what she said._ "

Hayashi stiffened. "Bruises _heal._ The incident at the hotel was three _weeks_ ago _."_

"Then where did _those_ come from-"

There was bang from the Judge's gravel again. " _Overidden_."

"But-" she blurted before stopping herself. When she didn't sit right away there was another bang, and promptly slammed herself down into the bench so hard it scooted back.

Hayashi called him up to the stand then. He felt indescribably feeble when he couldn't hide behind Haruhi anymore. And like he dreaded, the only thing that tumbled out of his mouth was: "I don't know." Was he drunk? He didn't know. Were they alone together? He couldn't remember. What did they talk about? He wasn't even given enough time to hesitate with that one.

And when he smugly muttered, " _No further questions_ ," Hikaru could see Haruhi's eyes roll back. He could tell she was getting angry, but trying hard to hide it. Until she was finally allowed to call upon Cheiko.

Their eyes met when she stood but she quickly shrunk away as he started to stare.

"Miss Fujibayashi," she started, tearing her eyes away from Hayashi as he winked, "do you know why Mr. Hitachiin was at the bar that night?"

Cheiko barely raised her eyes over the rim of the desk, barely talking over a whisper. "He was meeting with a art dealer."

"And what were _you_ doing there?"

"I was-" she stopped, and Haruhi noticed her eyes drift over to Hayashi before she answered meekly, " _Meeting_ with someone. But they never showed."

"Did Mr. Hitachiin approach you first?"

"No. I did."

"What for?"

She raised her head just a little. "He... looked lonely."

Haruhi frowned weirdly at her dopey tone, and tried again. "Was he drinking then?"

"No. I mean-...a _little_ but he wasn't drunk." She insisted before quickly adding. "Not until we got to the room."

"What did you have to say to Mr. Hitachiin alone that you couldn't have said at the bar? Clearly you weren't afraid something might happen between the two of you, or else you wouldn't have invited him over."

"I just," her voice started to crack. "Wanted to talk about work, and the project we were working on together."

Haruhi paused. The next question burning a hole in her tongue. "Prior to that night, have you and Mr. Hitachiin ever had sexual relations?"

Her eyes strayed towards Hayashi. And he noticed.

" _No_." Cheiko nearly choked. "We're just-... We _were_ just friends."

Haruhi nodded.

"No further questions."

Then, she demanded the court take recess.

* * *

Haruhi escaped the second she had the chance. Eyes bouncing off her eyelids as she scanned the floor, staring at her feet while blind to where she was actually going. Her heart was pounding so ruthlessly it hurt. She couldn't breathe.

She thought she was _over_ it. She _was_ over it. But It was a tough crowd. Of course he had to be there too. From the Judge playing favorites just because she was a woman. He fit right in. She hadn't felt this demeaned in a long time. And it felt so familiar she started to tear at her sleeves, just because he looked at her clothes.

She staggered into the break room. Heading straight to the coffee.

Her hands were the reflection of everything she wouldn't let her face say. They were white, and trembling over the dispenser of the coffee machine. She didn't even bother putting sugar in it. She drank it black, and stung in the back of her throat, until there was a breath of warm air blown at the base of her neck and a hand sneakingly smoothing over her backside, then, she spit it right back into her cup with a sound that was a cross between a cough and a gasp.

But unfortunately, not enough of a sound for anyone to notice.

She whirled around, burning red. His smug, cheeky smile was looming over her.

" _Hi_."

" _What_?" She snapped.

The man scoffed , particularly keen with himself as he leaned back on his heels, raising his hands defensively. " _Sorry_ , You were staring at me a lot in there. I figured you were waiting for me."

" _Don't_ touch me."

"Alright, _Calm down_."

Haruhi stuck her elbow straight out to shove past him, but it only gave him the opportunity to slink his arm around her waist and tug her in front of him.

"I want to talk to you." He insisted.

 _Ichiro Hayashi_. He was an old classmate she met while studying in Boston. He was only three years older than her but acted as her mentor as she studied law. They weren't friends, and never acted like they were, but there was a point where she used to respect him.

 _Used to._

She hadn't seen him since she moved back to Japan, and she didn't want to. It seemed almost comical that that they'd both be here. Today. Working in the same case.

It was like a sick _joke_.

 _Hilarious_.

She shrugged off his arm. "I couldn't imagine _why._ "

"You're breaking my heart," he said, but it didn't look like it. His lips were still curved in a steady grin. "What's it been? _Eight_ years? One would have thought you missed me." He bent his knees until he was at her eye level, making her take a step back. "I missed _you_."

"I _mean_ , I never knew I'd actually have the pleasure of seeing you in court one day." He said before she could even inhale. "It's been a dream really."

"Well I'm glad someone's having fun."

"And to think, we're not on the same _side_."

She turned her back to him, ready to leave, but he slid around her like a snake, blocking the door.

"And a _defense_ lawyer?" His tone dripping with a suppressed laugh. "I never took you for a crook. What happened to all that dignity?"

Ichiro caught the flash of irate across her face at that comment and finally laughed aloud. "I'm just _teasing_ you. Lighten up."

"What do you _want_?" Her cheeks were was tight but _god_ it sounded like a beg, and it made her ill.

"Your time," he said simply, oblivious to the staleness between them. "Seeing as we're finished here, you're free to have lunch with me."

 _Lunch_? she almost choked. She'd rather toss the pot of hot coffee into her own face, but then stopped. " _Free_?" She blurted out instead. " _Why_?" The court was still in _recess_.

"You didn't hear? They decided to take the case to trial."

Haruhi exhaled like her entire life left her body. " _Already_?"

"Well," he lent down, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. "I can be _very persuasive_."

 _And yet I'm_ _the crook._

She bit back a groan and shoved past him, and this time he let her. Clearly knowing he'd already done what he'd set out to do.

There wasn't many people who could make her throat swell.

He just happened to be one of them.

And he knew that.

Her eye panned the floor as she stalked down the hall. A terrible habit, seeing as she'd always manage to run into things, but she wouldn't dare let anyone else see her face right now. She had to bite her lips to keep them from shaking. _We're crying now? So much for not getting emotional._

" _Haruhi_?"

Her footing stalled, as a familiar pair of shoes peaked through the rim of her bangs that had fallen over her eyes, and quickly started to rub her hands into her face. Maybe he wouldn't notice.

Hikaru tilted his head, as her face purposely turned away from him. _Honestly,_ he takes his eyes off her for _ten minutes-_ He must be rubbing off on her.

He thought about teasing her. What was she saying about keeping it together? Until he heard a sound that sounded distinctly like a sniffle, and he tensed.

"Hey," Hikaru frowned, as if it were offensive. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she bit back quickly.

"Clearly," he said, watching her wipe her nose on her wrist. She did leave the court room in a hurry, but she didn't look upset then. He looked over her head, wondering where she had come from. The hall was empty beside a man, who he recognized as Cheiko's lawyer. He was looking at her as he shoved a cigarette between his teeth, only turning away when he noticed he was being watched.

He looked back down. "Did he say something to you?"

"Forget it," she said, and with a deep breath she turned towards the door. "Let's just go-"

Hikaru nodded knowingly deciding not to mention the redness around her eyes. She moved to step past him, but he took a hold of her shoulders and held her steady. There was just something not right about the way her voice broke. And for some reason, it made him angry. With one hand he shrugged his aviators out from the inside of his blazer and slid them tenderly behind her ears.

He smiled fondly at the way the glasses covered her small face.

Haruhi just sighed, hovering her fingertips over the rims, as if she were afraid to touch them.

"It suits you, but just between us, I'd rather not make this a habit." She muttered

"Don't worry," He said softly, taking her hand, noticing the way she didn't pull away. "I won't let you."

* * *

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	13. Chapter 12

**My Muse**

Chapter 12

* * *

She didn't sleep well that night.

The feeling of his chapped hands shrugging off her shirt and sliding between her thighs, kept her staring at the ceiling all night. The bitter taste of cigarette and alcohol still evident on his tongue as he shoved it between her teeth gave her a headache. The cologne he wore too much of as he pressed against her made her feel dizzy. She thought about his mouth leaving blotches on her skin and how they made it hard to forget him even after he left.

Her heart hurt. And she told herself _just_ _once_. That she could be afraid tonight. That she could cry until she falls asleep, but she forgot how hard it was to sleep on a wet pillow.

Her eyes still burned as she stared at the table.

" _Well_ ," his voice was like a snake, and his breath _still_ stale from cigarettes. "I can be _very persuasive_."

They both knew what he meant.

And he _was_ , she thought sullenly, drinking her coffee black, again. _Very persuasive_.

But, no matter how many times he could kiss that Judge's ass, it shouldn't have gone to trial. Their case shouldn't have left that court room. Not with their argument. There was too many loose threads. They never even asked for third party witnesses. What could he have possibly said to convince them to take it to trial? And in _fifteen minutes_? While everyone was taking _recess_?

Haruhi looked down at the soggy coffee grounds at the bottom of her cup. _Something... wasn't right._

Just as her eyes were starting to fade shut, the door opened and forced herself up right again. She hid a yawn behind her hand watching Joichiro shuffle into the living room, and briefly they made eye contact before she scrambled to her feet.

" _Joichiro_." She blurted out, and he barely raised an eyebrow at her before tucking away his coat in the tiny hall closet.

He was wearing a suit when he had left yesterday, but now dressed... _casually_ , but clearly very expensive. She could tell, buy the brand new shoes and decorative scarf tucked into his shirt. That wasn't what surprised her, she'd seen his closet, but he looked considerably well groomed and rested for someone who hadn't been home in two days.

"Where have you been?" She asked as he passed the table and went straight for the fridge.

"I was busy." He said simply, stealing the last of the coffee in the pot, but after one sip, he spit it back out in his cup.

"Did you forget creamer again?"

"I don't mind," she muttered, ignoring his comment how he guessed she forgot breakfast too, seeing as the sink was full of yesterday's dishes and no food on the counter. To which she replied that she was busy too, but that apparently went right over his head, as he went on to ask if she had done the laundry and if she had seen his (very expensive clothing brand she couldn't pronounce) shirt.

Haruhi barely had enough time to think of the idea of fixing him a quick eggroll for breakfast before he came back into the kitchen with an entirely new outfit on, announcing that he was leaving.

" _Already_? You just got here." The hurt in her voice kind of surprised her. It's not like him not being here ever bothered her before. At least he didn't notice.

"I'm meeting Kobayashi for lunch." He said, and she deflated. As if she knew who _that_ was.

He'd seen that exasperated look on her before, and today he seemed delighted to actually enlighten her.

"He's one of the most well known art dealers in the country. Not that you'd known." _obviously_. "He's really particular about artists. He only sells from a select few, but Airi-" _that name she knew_ "-and him run in the same circle and convinced him to meet us today." He looked pleased with his reflection as he stared at the tiny mirror on the bathroom door, carefully fixing the cuffs of his button up like they were thin pieces of tissue paper. "If I manage to _woo_ him, he might consider buying our paintings."

"So _this_ was her business proposition?" She mumbled, hoping the disdain in her voice wasn't that obvious. "That's something."

"Wait till you hear how much she's betting he'll _pay_ for it."

She raised her brow.

"Eight million yen."

Haruhi scoffed.

That _is_ something.

His path crossed in front of her again, and for a brief, fleeting moment, they locked eyes and in that same moment her heart made a strange jump inside her chest that almost made her gasp when he lent down and brought his lips close thought to her forehead that she thought he might kiss her. But he pushed her hair back and recoiled, like he had touched fire.

"Have you _showered_?"

She deflated. "I forgot."

" _Yes_." He muttered wiping his hand on his pant leg. "Well, I'm leaving."

She turned back to the soggy clumps of coffee grounds at the bottom of her cup again until she heard the door shut, not bothering to stop him this time.

Then, she got up to take a shower. And she shampooed twice.

* * *

Haruhi walked through the crowded parking garage, kicking her foot through a river of purple and blue hued oil that came from under an old silver Subaru.

She was late, but he probably wouldn't mind. Nothing had happened since she took on being his bodyguard anyway. It's not like he'd notice she was gone.

She looked up, watching three female receptionists as they hopped one by one out of a tiny red car, and slowed her pace so they wouldn't notice her. They whispered among themselves, dressed in their tiny skirts and frilled blouses. They flipped their hair and fixed their curls, and Haruhi found herself tugging absently at the split ends of her tangled ponytail.

They started to laugh, as the tall one with shiny legs started making poor impressions of a man with a deep voice. She made devil horns out of her fingers and Haruhi could only imagine they were talking about Hikaru, and couldn't help mumbling aloud that he did _not_ sound like that.

It was so distracting, she was about to ran straight into a cement support beam when one of the girls suddenly cleared her throat and looked up just in time to see _Oh_ \- _Speak of the devil_ \- stalking through the heavy glass door.

He was looking ahead blindly, even from where she was standing, she could see his tightened brow. He was fuming and it was only - she looked down at her watch - Eight Thirty-five. It was almost amusing, and she smiled fondly. _Weird._

But that look on his face faltered immediately as soon as their eyes locked and he caught her standing there. He tucked his head into his shoulders as he passed the girls who had then turned an interesting shade of grey (probably hoping he hadn't heard them and wouldn't lose their jobs) only relaxing when he stopped in front of her and took her wrist.

His grip was so loose that if he pulled too hard he'd slip away, and thought of shrugging him off, but there was an interesting look in his eyes and she found that she couldn't, and mindlessly followed behind him. Lost, as he stalked past car after car, heading towards the darker corner of the parking garage.

" _Hey_ ," she finally managed, for some reason, feeling uneasy. "Where are we going? I thought there was a board meeting today?"

"I'm not _on_ the board." Hikaru said flatly.

Haruhi looked down at his free hand. His knuckles were white and his veins were pulsing. "What's wrong?"

"You were _late_." She flinched.

He'd never been mad at her before. It surprised her, and she wasn't sure how to defend herself, but it wasn't such a big deal that she thought she should apologize. He was likely stuck in his stuffy office for the past hour, what could have happened? "It's not that easy to hop Taxi's. I thought you'd be fine for a few minutes."

"It wasn't a few minutes." He sounded angry, but kept his voice quiet so it wouldn't echo. "You're supposed to be here at _Seven-thirty._ "

" _Eight_." She corrected.

"You're _always_ here at _Seven-Thirty_." He snapped, letting his anxiousness spill from his lips, like he wasn't in control of anything coming out of his mouth.

"I didn't think you'd notice." She grumbled.

"It's not your job to _think_."

She was about to tell him to calm down, but reality dawned on her that maybe she was wrong. That maybe he did need her and she wasn't there. Maybe the office harassment went beyond just the churlish receptionists.

She stopped suddenly, and he was jerked back. "Are you _hurt_?"

He turned, and looked shocked. His mouth stayed open for a good few moments before he stiffened again and mumbled a quiet, " _No_."

She frowned then, and this time he shrunk back, that bravado quickly leaving him."Then why are you _mad_?"

"Because you-!" he almost shouted, but she noticed how his jaw tweaked, like he was biting his tongue. "...I'm not _mad_."

No, he wasn't, she agreed, just _shaking._ That was a terrible habit of his. As they stopped moving she could feel his fingers grasping her wrist, desperately. He was making _her_ hand shake. He wasn't mad. Just anxious.

"What happened?"

He hesitated, still staring at her as if he'd just bitten him. Maybe he didn't like being yelled at either.

His eyes looked up hastly towards the building, then down at his shoes. "Is he still watching?"

She looked over her shoulder, glaring. " _Who_?"

"Fifth floor. Third window."

Her eyes traveled up the office, and counted the windows. And the fifth floor's third window just happened to be facing right between two support beams that stood in front of them. It was one of the few windows with no curtains. And a perfect window to spy on his car through if anyone would want to. But there wasn't anymore there.

" _No_." She answered suspiciously.

Hikaru let out a breath, and shrugged his hand through his hair. He mumbled something under his breath, as soon as he had pulled enough at his bangs that they were falling over his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Who's _he_?"

"My _Dad_. He always watches me leave."

"What happened _now_?"

Hikaru just crinkled his nose at that, then turned back to his car, and Haruhi followed him from the passenger side, figuring that if she bothered him enough he'd cave, but that thought was quickly forgotten about as they settled into their seats and were greeted by a scribbled messages on the windshield. What looked to be written in blochy red lipstick.

" _Die_?" He read the largest word aloud. " _That's_ original."

But Haruhi wasn't as half as amused as he was. She ripped off her seat belt and stalked over to the front of the car before Hikaru could turn the windshield wipers on.

If felt weird to feel this angry. Maybe because it had been awhile. Her skin flared up under her clothes and she shrugged off her blazer so cruelly it tangled as if fell off her arms.

 _Guilty_ , _Criminal_ , _Die_ , and hearty red scribbles all wiped clean as she swiped her blazer across the window, like she was cleaning up a bloody crime scene.

" _Don't_ ," Hikaru choked, suddenly beside her, ripping her jacket from her fists when she didn't listen, and clutched it protectively in his arms, until she started to wipe the offending words away with just her hands. "Haruhi, _stop_ -"

"Who did this?"

"It's not a big _deal_."

"This is _vindictive_. They don't even know what _happened_."

" _Leave it_. It doesn't matter." She opened her mouth to insist that it was - she couldn't remember _what_ it was - but something about this was illegal and wrong and it made her angry. She had half the mind to march into the building to find those obnoxious receptionists. She was positive it was them, but his distressed voice managed to pull her mind away from it. "Can we just go? I don't want to be here anymore."

His fingers caressed her shoulder her shoulder, as he nudged her back to the car and she realized how tense she was. It was fleeting, but he was gentle, like he was smoothing out a rose petal. Then things got quiet, and she stopped to match her breathing with the rise and fall of his chest. Getting one last look at the smeared lipstick before he blocked her view.

"It's okay." He whispered.

Then, they were back in the car and didn't waste a second longer at Ito-Co. Which was a good thing, because half way around the corner she wanted to find his father and demand that he find who did it and punish them. How? She wasn't sure yet, but she could probably find a couple choice reasons that could get them fired. Not that she'd have the guts to do it, so the only place for her feelings to go was to just sizzle die into a rotting bitterness

It really was no big deal, he said over again, commenting that she should stop frowning, or she'll get wrinkles. And after awhile, she admitted to herself that _maybe_ she was overreacting, as she slumped back and watched the smudged lipstick wash away with ease as they drove slowly through the car wash.

She shouldn't be angry, but there was something about the way Hikaru shrugged it off that made it so unfair. He must've been used to it.

"You're quiet." He said easily, in a sort of tone that sounded like he had no idea _why_.

Haruhi ignored that, staring out the side window, curiously but biting the inside of her cheek, as they turned down a road she didn't recognize. "Does your father know?"

He scoffed. "I don't cry to my parents every time someone says something _mean_ , besides _-"_ He paused, a wrinkle forming at the top of his nose. "I don't want Kaoru to know."

She stopped to consider that. Her job was primarily to keep an eye on Hikaru, but Yazuha's hidden intentions were to keep Kaoru from worrying about him. It was likely that if Kaoru found out, he'd not only get _everyone_ in that building fired, but drag Hikaru out of there, kicking and screaming and never let him out of his sight again.

The car slowed, as they pulled up to a drive through iron gate. It opened wide, slowly, and brilliantly once Hikaru flashed the ID pad a card he fished out from his shirt. Anything beyond that was surrounded by tall privacy cobblestone walls and tall fern trees. The long stoned driveway made her eyes anticipate that something grand and magnificent was waiting at the end of it, but she was surprised.

She was expecting a castle or something just short of, but it was surprisingly much more unadorned. Of course that didn't makeup for how ridiculously abstract it stood. Every square section of wall was placed and stacked on top of each other like it was the product of an elegant game of _Tetris_ and made almost entirely out of huge tinted windows, that reflected the interesting flower arrangement in the center of the driveway and was trimmed heartily with stone. It looked similar to his house, only three stories higher.

The car stopped at the stairs, and she watched as Hikaru unleashed his seat belt with a strange knit in his brow. "What is this?" She asked quietly. A whisper to herself.

"Work." He said simply, looking at her as he unlocked her door. "Don't worry. It'll only be a minute."

Did she look worried? She wasn't expecting another evil corporation to be running inside that building when he said _work_ , but she really wasn't in the mood to meet anymore of his co-workers. None of them had been very nice.

She reluctantly slung off her own seat belt and followed him up three short flights of concrete steps led up to a dark polished door. He pulled out the little card that was hung around his neck again, scanning it over a security pad then punched in a four digit code before the light above the door flashed green, with a friendly _bing_ sound _._

The door opened to a wide glass hallway. with sides rimmed with small trees, and neatly trimmed bushes that ran alongside the damp cobble walkway. The air felt damp. Like they were walking through a tiny greenhouse, but she immediately got slapped in the face by a rush of cool air as he opened the second door, and that's when her breath caught dead in her throat.

The outside was modest compared to the solid marbled floor that was hidden inside, and gold leafed trim and embellishments worked into the walls. It was empty. It echoed as she wandered awkwardly inside, afraid she'd smudge the tile. There was a faint sound of water rushing and splashing, and it distracted her enough from where Hikaru was leading her and made her turn. Her lips parted, in awe, to find it was a water fall, falling from inside the ceiling and down the wall, into a enormous oval pond, saved from being completely level with the floor only by a few inches of tiled trim.

She took a few steps for a closer look, to pear over the edge. Sheltering the falling water was two mirrored fern trees, and a collection of large tropical looking red flowers the size of her hands. He must like flowers, she mused pleasantly. She wondered if he watered them.

Then, she glanced down, her mouth gaping wide as she watched a large, kind of exotic looking fish appear from under the floor, and float delicately around the plants sunken under the water, before it swam away somewhere under the floor beneath her feet.

Now she was hungry.

Then, a hand pressed tentatively against her hip, and she was gently pulled towards the opposite direction. "This way." Hikaru said softly, and amused.

"Do you _eat_ out of there?" She asked mindlessly.

"Please don't eat my gold fish."

The building was like a magic hat, was what she thought, as Hikaru opened a glass third door, that led to a set of floating stairs. They stuck out from the wall and she took her first step like she was dipping her toe in cold water. They looked fragile but Hikaru nudged her forward again, telling her it was okay. Strange. He was being really gentle today. Or maybe just weak willed.

The second floor wasn't as glamorous. There wasn't anything particularly interesting besides a tall pillar smack dab in the middle of the room. It was large, and refined, and more like it belonged under a Greek statue, but gazing at the walls, noticing that where there wasn't windows, there was huge, gold framed paintings, and she finally remembered that not only was Hikaru the heir to his father's software development company, he was also a _painter,_ and this was obviously a gallery. Perhaps that was something she chose to forget on purpose, as walking through the rows of beautifully arranged paintings left a bad taste in her mouth.

Then, he opened another door, one that was more hidden, and looked like just another piece of the wall. He opened it for her, revealing another set of stairs and she groaned.

But thankfully, this lead to the top floor, and Haruhi finally felt that weird ache in her stomach disperse as the modest and _bare_ grey walls, and faded wood floor gave her a sense of familiarity. She walked on eggshells over marble, but this room, while spacious, looked like a cozy apartment. With a flat screen TV and a small kitchen.

It was cluttered, but neatly, and wasn't trying to impress anyone. There was a black, hard wedged sofa, and two matching recliners, surrounding a glass coffee table, littered with wrinkled magazines and a lonely coffee cup.

"Where's everyone else?" She asked.

"It's just us." Hikaru said, leaving her side to snatch a certain magazine off the table, rolling it tightly inside his fist. "This isn't open to the public."

"What _is_ this?"

He made a face just then, that pretty much read ' _you can't tell_?'. "A gallery." He said.

"Do you _live_ here?"

"Some times."

She wasn't expecting him to actually say _yes_ , and it dawned on her then that she was essentially, in his _home_ , _alone_ with him. She'd been to his house before, but Kaoru had been there. And like he had just emphasized, it was just them now.

Haruhi pulled at the collar of her blouse, suddenly feeling kind of hot and awkward. He mumbled something under his breath before telling her to "Wait here," then disappeared around the corner. Once he was gone, her eyes started weighing heavily on the door, wondering how long it'd take him to notice if she left.

She wasn't scared. If Hikaru was going to throw himself at her, he could have done that in the car, and she never felt vulnerable around him yet, and wasn't given any reason to be now, except where she was standing, a corn in the corner was wide open, and she could see straight into his bedroom, and felt anxious.

She looked around for something to distract her, and her eyes finally set on a tall, disordered bookshelf. _Books, ah, good. Books are nice._ Expect when she thumbed over and inspected the covers, there was just old text books. Mostly chemistry, and a few on classical art. Two things she happened to hate the most, so she opted to organize them instead. Biggest the smallest. She liked hers that way. They were well worn, and noted how he liked to bend the pages.

It was all fun and distracting until something fell out from between the pages of a book in her hand, and fell on her foot. It was a picture, and she scrambled to pick it up and put it back, until she saw it was a picture of _Hikaru_ , and her hand stopped.

It was Hikaru and a _girl_. They were both half kissing, half grinning. With light brown hair, and dark bright red lipstick that looked like she had also pressed some of it down his neck. One of her hands was clutching the front of his shirt, while her other was showing off a giant diamond that was sitting prettily on her ring finger.

Was Hikaru... _engaged_?

Before she could sit too long on that thought, there was footsteps behind her, and she quickly shoved the picture somewhere back between the pages, already making up excuses why she was snooping.

He was at her side before she could hide the book and immediately looked down at it as it laid flat on her hands.

"You like Vermeer?" Hikaru asked, a little surprised.

She looked down. It was a book about _Johannes Vermeer_. " _Yes_." She blurted out. She had no idea who that was. "She's... _interesting_."

" _He's_ interesting?"

"That's what I said."

"It's cute that you tried."

She frowned, stuffing the book back. She hated painters anyway.

" _Here_ ," he handed her something when she turned back to him, and on nerves, she stiffly held her hands out for it. It unraveled as she held it up, and she almost gasp. Her eyes of course only seeing the price tag.

"It's not the same as your old one," he mumbled, his hand going to the back of his neck. Was he embarrassed? "But it's clean."

Her fingers ran over the front of the black blazer, like it was glass. "You... _bought_ this?"

"After you kept coming to work still wearing _coffee_ all over yours, I figured you might need a new one." He looked down pointedly at her old blazer hanging her arm. "And lipstick stains."

Her mouth was open, but not a whole lot was coming out. "I... _can't_ I- It's _expensive._ "

"Not really."

She hugged it closer, feeling something hard inside the pocket. It was a ID badge. With her name, printed above the title _Personal Security._ Darn, well, she couldn't give it back _now._ "You... didn't _have_ to _."_

"Well, it was only a matter of time before Kaoru found out," he teased. "And we can't have that."

A _thank you_ hung off the tip of her tongue, but before she could get that out, he cut her off with a " _Ah_ , I almost forgot," and not a moment later, he was taking off her big round glasses and slipping a pair of shiny new sunglasses over her nose. " _There_. Now you look like a _real_ bodyguard." he said, nodding. "So _intimidating_."

"You're laughing at me."

"That glare is so scary. You're good at this."

"I'd hit you if I could see."

"That doesn't sound like something a bodyguard should do."

She took the glasses off carefully, now facing her shoes. Seeing a boyish smile dimpling his cheeks she'd never seen on him before, and feeling a strange weight on her chest the longer he looked at her with it, made her feel a sense of privilege.

"Thank you." She finally managed.

Hikaru smiled a little wider, not being able to stop himself from fixing a small piece of her hair stuck on her ear, but quickly snatched his hand away, deciding that was a very _bad_ idea.

" _Ah_ , look at the time," he looked down at his bare wrist. "Suppose you won't mind if I treat you for lunch, _Fujioka_?"

"Food too? You're awfully generous today, Mr. Hitachiin. _I couldn't_."

"Consider it my payback for that disgusting coffee you bought me."

She scoffed. "Well If you insist."

* * *

It was half past noon, and the Italian restaurant Hikaru dragged her into was bustling but quiet, and impressively overwhelming. She hated expensive foreign places. All she could taste was the price tag and all she could hear was the loud clanking of silverware scratching glass. And All she could hear was stiff conversations from rich business associates and couples who hated each other.

But the way Hikaru sat, with his chin sitting on his fingers, unbothered by all of that, focusing all his attention on her, and whispering jokes about everyone around them made her not mind it so much.

And they sat, too transfixed on each other to finish their pasta, or notice a certain someone sitting just a few tables away from them.

Daichi curled his fat fingers around his napkin, patting his mouth dry. "I'm embarrassed to say you showed up during pretty desperate times. Because of the lawsuit, Ito-Co has suffered significantly."

"I'm aware. I hope I don't come to regret this."

"I assure you, you won't. With the release of the Reverse Project, the Ootori's will benefit greatly from it."

Kyoya leaned back, his glasses catching a glint from the crystal on his cup. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Fujibayashi."

* * *

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	14. Chapter 13

**My Muse**

 _Chapter 13_

* * *

It was a quarter past noon. On a Saturday.

A month ago he wouldn't have gotten out of bed before two on a weekend. But a month was a long time, and she was certainly leaving an impression.

A _deep_ impression, Is what Kaoru said, but he didn't want to think about it like that. That was mad. Getting up at ungodly hours for _work_ was just something he felt like doing. He could be responsible. It wasn't because of _Haruhi_.

She just happened to always be there when he was on time. And that was nice.

He grabbed a paintbrush with the edge of his finger tips and damped it with water from a clean jar, before mixing a pretty shade of chestnut brown on his palette, but his eyes were elsewhere, when he finally pressed a full stroke against the canvas.

"I was wondering when you'd start. We've been here for hours by now."

Hikaru scoffed, catching a teasing glint in her eye. "You've been watching me?" he asked, pleased. "You should have told me. I would have looked back."

Haruhi ignored that, turning back to the crowded wall she'd preoccupied herself with by looking at. It wasn't interesting, but she'd read all the magazines about Kaoru and fashion that she could take in a day.

This was a small art studio above his gallery. It wasn't at all like the second floor. None of the paintings were framed, and hung by a thread on nails or thumbtacks. And where there was a clean patch of wall, were strips of used newspaper or magazines, full of scribbled notes and crusty paint samples. It reminded her of Joichiro's room at their apartment. Except... messier.

She really hated it.

Hikaru looked up again, wiping his hands on a dirty rag, noticing her eyes wandering. "If you want an autograph, all you have to do is ask. I like you enough that I wont charge you."

"That's thoughtful," she said, sounding like she'd consider it. "But I'm not a fan of yours."

"How _rude_."

"I _hate_ painters," she said, thoughtlessly, with more malice than she was intending. It just slipped out. "I really don't get the appeal."

"You're so cruel," he sighed, like it was real tragedy. "I bet you're just jealous, cause you're not very good at it."

"Well I'm not," she agreed, "but it's not about that. I just don't like them. "

"Well you're missing out. I'm pretty great."

She looked wall to wall, looking for that _one_ painting that might her change her mind, but his paintings were all the same. Made from similar color pallets. All browns and reds or blues and grays. They were abstract. She couldn't place what any of them could actually _be_ , but something about them was so depressing. She couldn't imagine why anyone would want to buy them. That was another thing about the painting community that she just couldn't wrap her head around.

Well, at least there weren't any _circles_.

Then, pausing her critique, she saw a splash of pink and purple hidden between two great big painting that were so _dark_ they cast a shadow on the much smaller painting of a cherry blossom tree and a _building_. With huge columns and clock tower. The color it was painted in made it look like glass and so dimensional she almost wanted to touch it. The nostalgia made it look all the more delicate.

"I like this one." He heard her say in a quiet breath, and raised his head, discarding his concentration on his tiny mixture of charcoal. He followed her eyes to that silly oil painting of cherry blossoms. He barely remembered that one. That was a _long_ time ago.

"That's Ouran Academy."

"I know," she said softly, and he realized that she had said that last bit to herself only. "I went to High School there."

She turned away from it, looking a bit stiff, before redirecting the subject. "We had to have gone there around the same time."

"Adorable. You must have been a _scholarship_ student."

He was teasing her, but she just shrugged. Being able to uphold her scholarship every semester wasn't an easy feat so it was hard to be embarrassed about it. "Something like that."

"Kaoru and I studied High School Abroad in Spain. We only came back to finish College."

"And I moved to Boston then," She said, a little louder than a mumble. So that meant, he probably didn't know _them_. It wasn't like she was expecting him to, so she didn't know why she was disappointed. There was just an empty feeling that came along with being the only one who remembered the Host Club. It'd been so long since she'd seen anyone who'd have any idea what that was, that it felt like a myth.

After a second stroke of brown, Hikaru was lost, and eventually threw away his paintbrush. This had been happening a lot. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually finished a painting. Two years? Had it been that long already?

He took his rag to wipe his already clean hands when he noticed her in that cramped corner again, standing on her toes. She carefully fished that little painting off the wall and brought it close to her. Her fingers grazing carefully over the oil texture. Her eyes soft, like she was staring at something precious, but sad, like that something was far away now, and no longer with her. He found it weird, that he didn't want to look away from her. So he looked away, _fast_ , hot a nervous.

After a fleeting thought, he found a clean paintbrush, and a tube of red and white oil paint - She seemed to like that kind - then, carefully, more carefully than he'd ever been before, he dipped just the tip of the bristles of his brush into the perfect mixture of rose pink.

And on a fresh canvas, he started painting, one by one, precious little cherry blossoms.

* * *

It was an hour and a few random chemistry books later, when Hikaru suddenly tossed his messy paintbrush into a jar of water again and said he was bored. She didn't even have time to ask him if she could go home now, as he disappeared somewhere into the kitchen before she could put her book down, claiming he'd be _right_ back and told her to get _comfy._

She was left alone in his lounge again then, and it was just as uninteresting as it was last time, but she sat on his sofa and tried to got comfortable. As comfortable as she could get at least. When she pushed her back flush against the couch, her toes couldn't reach the floor. Then, she shifted, and was prodded in the side by something sharp.

It was a magazine, peaking up through between the cushions. He always had a surplus of those. Except this one wasn't about Kaoru. It was a trashed tabloid, that looked like it had, at one point, been used as a mop. The cover was torn and faded and crinkled from water, but what kept her from tossing it onto the pile with the other magazines at her feet, was an article about Hikaru on the front page.

' _Hikaru Hitachiin Incompetent_?'

But before she could read the next line, the book was snatched from her hands.

"Careful, you'll rot your brain if you read anymore of those." Hikaru said, and with just a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the trash bin.

"Why do you keep all of these?" she asked.

"Coasters." He said automatically. Like he'd said it a lot before. And to illustrate his point, he pulled another magazine from a pile on the coffee table, and used it as a coaster for his cup.

He plopped down on the sofa beside her, making her bounce. Then handed her, her own crystal glass, full of something pink, with ice. She took it, and on habit, brought it under her nose to smell it. "What is it?"

"Lemonade?"

"Did you put something in it?"

His face fell, into a thoughtful scowl. She stopped moving, as he lent over, covering her hand over the glass so she couldn't pull away, and tilted it towards him. Then, she stopped breathing, as he took a small, but prolonged sip from her glass, before pulling away.

" _No_."

Haruhi stared into his face, lips parted, feeling his hand still around hers, not being able to look away.

"Did you think I would?" He mumbled quietly.

"One can never be too careful," she said lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "You coasters say you're quite the scoundrel."

He looked down towards her lap, not really looking at anything in particular as a glimmer of pain flittered through his eyes, kneading the front of his shirt through his fingers like he'd just been kicked in the chest. "And what do you think?"

What did _she_ think?

Of course she didn't agree with the articles she'd read. Most disgusted her so much she _couldn't_ read them. He wasn't some depraved animal. But there were times, when they were alone and she'd get anxious. She wasn't an idiot. The things he'd been accused of - people rarely lied about that. She believed in innocent until proven guilty, but she couldn't completely let her guard down - she'd done that before - no matter how nice he was to her.

But she couldn't say that.

"I don't," she finally said, just above a whisper.

He eased back at that but his face didn't falter.

"A lot of people do." He paused. "... but whatever you might think, I'm not going to hurt you, so don't say things like that."

After some thought, she sat back, looking into her cup, and where his lips had fogged her glass. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said through a deep breath. "Honestly, I wouldn't be as generous as you."

"It's not _you_ ," she said, a little too quickly that ended up biting her tongue. "It's just... someone spiked my drink once, so sometimes I ask without thinking."

Hikaru frowned, like that thought had personally offended him. "Spiked your drink? _Who?_ "

"It was a long time ago," She waved it off.

"Then, you don't have to drink that," he blurted, reaching to take her glass back but she moved away.

"N-no! I'll _drink it_. I don't want to hurt your feelings."

"It doesn't hurt my feelings if you're _uncomfortable_."

They'd both ended up crowded against the arm of the couch, his hand reaching for her cup that she held far behind her head with her other hand pressed against his chest. They stopped, both looking down, where Hikaru's knee was prodding between her legs.

They quickly scrambled to separate to the opposite sides of the sofa. Both glasses of lemonade abandoned to the far edge of the table.

Their backs were straight. And their shoulders completely square, internally scolding themselves.

For what Haruhi wasn't sure. It's not like she'd done anything wrong, but Hikaru kept saying, over and over, how much he _knew_ better.

" _So_ ," she started, her throat strained and dry. "When did you decide to be a _painter_?"

The change of subject was a relief, but he balked, and looked a little perplexed. "When I decided?"

"Have you always been painting? I don't know anything about it, but you have a lot of fans, so I guess you're good at it. You must've gone to school for it."

"Not _really_ ," he said. "I guess... twelve, or something. But it wasn't all that fun cause Kaoru wasn't into it." There was hesitance, before he continued. "It was just a really obsessive hobby until someone said they could make me famous. Eventually I used the money from commissions to build this." He gestured vaguely to the air around them.

She tried not to sound too surprised. She'd offended him enough that day. "You really make enough money from your paintings to run this place?"

He barely shrugged. "I used to."

"I wondered why it's not open to the public," she admitted. "It's really magnificent. Keeping it closed kind of feels like a shame. Do you not want people to see it?"

"It's not like that." He said, thoughtful. He hadn't thought of it like that. Keeping it to himself? "I just don't like it. After I pay it off, I'm going to sell it. Inviting people in sounds like an unnecessary hassle."

Strange. Everything in the building and around it looked like it was well kept. It looked precious to someone. "You don't like it? I thought-"

"But that's enough about _me_ ," He stopped her, flashing a familiar, taunting smile. "I think I remember hearing you hate painters, yet I believe you're actually _engaged_ to a painter. Aren't you? _Strange_. Or is it just me you don't like?"

"In my defense, he was a law student when we got engaged," she said, dismissively. "Six years later, he decided to be a freelance artist instead."

"You've been engaged for _six years?_ "

"Is it surprising?"

He scoffed. "What're you waiting for?"

She went quiet. Waiting for? Was she waiting for something? Money hung off the tip of her tongue. They never had enough money. But saying that now sounded wrong. With the money off her first check from Yazuha alone they could pay for the wedding. They certainly had enough money _now_. Was she waiting for something _else_?

"I guess... I'm waiting for him to stop _painting_." She said instead, and that made him laugh. It made something in her chest jump. She'd never heard him laugh before.

* * *

She sat by herself, cradling a dainty white teacup. It almost as delicate as her bony fingers she rubbed over the tiny faded flowers painted along it's side.

That morning's paper sat on her lap. On top of, _hiding_ , a magazine. It was old. One she'd read a lot. It's spine was starting to show it's wear. He was on the cover. He was sitting in a regular wooden chair, elbow propped along the back, his eyes staring absently into the blank screen of the phone that sat on his finger tips. This was to announce his departure from the fashion industry, and his inheritance of Ito-Co.

He wearing a collared suit, and his hair was brushed back. Small traces of his auburn bangs falling over his eyes. She missed when he looked like this. He looked alive.

She blinked. Her eyes hurt, and she closed them, tucked behind her hands. It felt like only a moment, but it was long enough for someone to appear at her table and slid something across to her. And she opened them again, seeing a slice of chocolate cake sitting in front of her.

"The gentleman over there sent this over." The waiter said in a low voice, and walked off before she could ask _who?_

Cheiko looked around. There was no one in the cafe with her, besides an old couple sitting in the corner. The bell tied to the door rang just then, as someone was leaving, but all she saw was their head, and a familiar color of auburn brown hair.

She looked back down at the piece of cake. The strawberry on top drizzled in caramel.

He knows her favorite?

* * *

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	15. Chapter 14

**My Muse**

 _Chapter 14_

* * *

Kaoru tossed himself back and forth in his chair, tapping his pen against his notebook, listening to his friend on the other side of the line ramble about his new dog, in the most outrageous mix of French and Japanese dripping in his silly accent.

He held eye contact with the brunette sitting quietly in one of the colorful plush chairs in front of his desk, and winked, before he threw his head back with a sigh.

"Yes, that's great dummy lord, but I have to get back to work now. Very busy." He said, flapping his wrist like he was swatting him away. "Yes, yes. I will. _Bye_."

He hung up before Tamaki could finish, and discarded his phone somewhere along with the rest of the mess on his table.

"Interrupting me while in the presence of a girl. How _rude_ of him." Kaoru huffed in offense, before turning back. His charming smile full of boyish dimples. "Now what were you saying doll?"

Unbeknownst, Haruhi waved it off, glancing around his messy office. It was more like a workshop really. Much like Hikaru's studio. "No, _I'm_ sorry. I just showed up without asking."

"It's not like I'm anyone important or anything." He shrugged. "Besides, I _like_ you."

"... _Thanks_." She muttered.

"Sad Hikaru isn't with you though," He took a deep breath and laid his hand flat against his chest. It hurt his heart just thinking about it. "I _miss_ him. But I don't have time to see him with week either. Mother's been kind of testy lately. Especially with the rehearsal show coming up."

She nodded, eyes being temporarily distracted by a painting above his head. It looked like Hikaru's. "Hikaru keeps mentioning it. Sounds exciting."

"That means he's thinking about me," he sighed fondly, balancing his pen between his nose and his upper lip. "You're coming aren't you? If you don't, we'll be sad. There's going to be an after party. You should see the suit I brought for Hikaru. He probably won't wear it though. He's so mean."

She made an 'X' with her arms. "Sounds great, but I'm not a party person."

He chuckled. "In that case, you've got an interesting taste in friends. I bet High School was a task."

Her face went blank. Her thoughts running completely dry. "Huh?"

" _Anyway_ ," he piped up, changing the subject. He was good at that. "What can I do for you? Did Hikaru stay inside today? He hardly lets you have any free time these days. Always making up excuses to keep you around."

Excuses to keep her around? Made sense. She felt like a toy being drug all over the place by a toddler. "He was having lunch with your father today, so I had a free hour."

"And you're spending it with _me_? I'm touched."

"Actually, I was just curious about something," she said, unintentionally malice that he had to laugh. "It's about Hikaru. I thought about asking him, but last time I mentioned it, he wouldn't say, so I thought I'd ask you instead."

He smirked. "I _do_ know him best."

She wasted no time. "What's his love life like?"

Kaoru suddenly laughed out loud again and his chair rocked back, "No wonder he was _hush-hush_. He must've been embarrassed." Then it finally settled in how odd the topic was. "Why the sudden interest in that?"

"The Trial isn't for awhile yet, but I wanted to ask around, and see if anyone would testify in court on his behalf."

He frowned. "I said _I'd_ testify."

"You will," she said, raising her hands defensively. "But... it'd help if we had someone who was in a romantic relationship with him to give their opinion," She elaborated, carefully adding. "Considering... the case."

He didn't seem to like the mention of that. "I _guess_."

"Has he really _never_ been in an actual relationship?"

"There was _one_ girl," he said, after not much thought. "In college. But I don't remember her name. And she was an exchange student. I'd have no idea where to look for her."

"Pretty irrelevant though," he added dismissively, propping his chin on his hand. "I think they broke up after three days."

"There's plenty of people all over the internet that have been seen with him." Plenty would be an understatement. Those types of articles were all she could find about Hikaru. That, and ones about how dilapidated he was. There were _a lot_ of those. "They don't have to be an ex or anything. Just... A fling, or an acquaintance?"

"Is that what you call them? You're _adorable_." Kaoru smiled.

"Is that a _no_?"

"There's no use calling any of them. They wouldn't involve themselves in any unnecessary drama for Hikaru."

"Why not?"

He raised his brow, like that was a stupid question. "Because they don't care what happens to _him_. They only go for him because he's an easy target."

She drew up a blank again. "A target?"

"He's lonely." he shrugged. "Girls like that."

"They do?"

"People like him are unavailable somehow, and no one in that scenario is looking for a relationship, so _yeah_ \- Keep up, Haruhi."

The dysfunctional aristocracy world continued to confuse her. It was all status and meaningless one-night stands. " _Right_. I guess I was wrong then."

"Hm? Bout what?"

"That Hikaru was engaged."

Kaoru's face then faltered into something complex, staring into her as if she was suddenly an enemy. It made her spine tingle. She realized then that that might have been too personal. "Where did you hear that?" he said, surprisingly neutral.

"I didn't," Haruhi said quietly, twiddling her fingers where he couldn't see, knowing she hit a nerve. "I saw a picture."

"Of course," he said darkly, a volcanic rumble in his voice. She'd heard a similar sound come out of Hikaru once. They weren't so much identical on the surface anymore apparently, but quickly, she was starting to see those uncanny resemblances. It was kind of scary.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." She said sheepishly.

"No, no," he groaned inwardly, sinking into his chair, his pen leaving a dent along his fingers as he sunk it inside his fist. "It's just... no one knew about it, so I was surprised is all."

"She's not a secret by any means," he added, refusing to say her name. He always _hated_ this topic. "it's just- no one knew they were engaged."

Haruhi nodded. No wonder nothing came up when she looked up ' _Hikaru Hitachiin's fiancee_ '. She didn't exist. At least on the surface.

"I guess it's better that I didn't ask him." She admits.

There was that pain in his chest again. But he was determined to keep up his composure this time.

"Wouldn't have done any good. Hikaru doesn't know either." He watched her face finally break, and quickly tried to explain, as cautious as he could. Not because he was afraid of her, or afraid of Hikaru if he found out he blabbed, but because he was afraid of his throat swelling up again. He really hated crying at work. He didn't need _that_ awkward conversation. "Hikaru... doesn't _remember_."

"Honestly, I'm not sure _how_ ," he continued, and she noticed his eyes drifting to a picture of Hikaru up on his far wall. It was similar to the one Hikaru had hung up in his office of _him_. "His therapist said it's psychological. He's completely blocked that part of his life out. He knows her as just his girlfriend, but he doesn't remember they were actually engaged."

" _Ex_ _girlfriend_." He corrected himself bitterly.

Haruhi looked down at her hands again, holding them close her to her, feeling like she'd just been kicked in the stomach. It didn't explain everything. There were plenty of lost puzzle pieces to Hikaru. There always were. People like him were always hard to understand. But the thought of him not being able to remember something like that was devastating. And now his reaction to the harassment at his office made her even more angry.

"Don't look sad." He said, lighter now. "It's not a huge loss. They were only engaged for two weeks."

That was another jab to her gut. That didn't make her feel better at all.

"You weren't thinking of asking _her_ , were you?" he asked. His voice was soft, but that almost sounded like a threat.

"To be honest, I thought about it," she said, her throat tight. _Careful_ , Haruhi. She pinched her wrist. You're breaking your own rule. You're not allowed to get emotionally involved. "But I get that, that might not be a good idea."

"It's not like I think she'll make things _worse_ ," he admitted, even though he really wanted to say she _would._ "I'd just rather not have them in the same room together."

"If they ended on bad terms, that could be used against us. Considering if _they_ find her."

"Don't worry about that. She'd never tell anyone they were engaged."

"That seems like something someone might want to brag about," the thought made her smirk. "Being being engaged to a Hitachiin."

"I'll take the compliment. We _are_ pretty pieces of merchandise." He mirror her expression. She'd seen that look on Hikaru, too. "But you see... if it were known that she was engaged to him, people might ask why they _split up_."

He paused, watching in mild amusement the way she perked up in curiosity just then. _Ah, oblivious love._ "And then she'd have to admit that she _cheated_ on him."

She deflated slowly, like a popped balloon, sinking into her chair. Is _that_ why he forgot?

"And if she did _that_ ," he conjectured churlishly, "It'd ruin her reputation as an _ugly_ little con-artist."

"...I see."

"I suppose it's best that you know," he sighed again, like this conversation exhausted him. "That way, in case you see her, you know to keep her as far away from Hikaru as possible." Another threat. That sounded more like "you _better_ , or else."

She opened her mouth, but the alarm on her watch starting to cry, and she felt her eyes roll back. Had it been an hour already? This meeting had been absolutely pointless. " _Duty calls_."

Kaoru flashed her another alluring smile. "Wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

She was halfway to the door before he piped up again, twirling his finger into one of his scarfs. "Are you checking his mail? He's bad at that."

" _Yes_ , Kaoru."

"Is he sleeping well?"

"I-I don't _know_."

Ah, she didn't fall for his trap.

He was still smiling, as he wiggled his fingers in a tiny wave. " _Bye_ , _Haruhi_."

She choked out a _bye_ , then left, feeling inexplicably embarrassed.

* * *

"Hikaru, are you listening?"

Hikaru looked up at his name. His expression said that no, he wasn't. He stopped listening a long time ago.

They were in a restaurant, at the top floor of a sky scraper. The walls were mostly made of windows, and the large room drenched in sunlight. They were the only ones around, save for the old woman eating alone in the corner, and their voices echoed obnoxiously.

"Just thinking," he answered in a low breath, hoping they wouldn't ask what he was thinking about.

His eyes moved to Daichi then, a burning desire sweltering in his eyes, wanting badly to flick the food off his fork into his stupid ugly mustache.

"Fujibayashi has proposed a new project," his father said, he was delighted, despite the his clinical tone, and oblivious to the invisible string of fire sparkling between the other two men.

He slid over the orange file and Hikaru flipped it over with a single finger, all while recoiling into his seat, having a feeling he already knew what it was before he even opened it. And sure enough, it was.

" _Reverse_." He read aloud. That word falling from his lips like aid. He wasn't surprised. He expected this eventually. But now? It was ballsy even for him. "You didn't even _try._ " He spat.

Fujibayashi ignored him. "With the lawsuit, it'd be smart to direct the public's attention to something else. really would prefer the media base their opinion of us on our products rather than our _people_." His eyes drifter towards him as he said that.

"Good luck," Hikaru said, almost wanting to laugh. There was a reason why he hadn't launched the reverse project yet. _He_ wasn't a jackass. "We can't afford a project like that, especially not being able to predict how we'll profit from it."

"Of course," Daichi agreed, using his sweet old grandpa voice that made Hikaru want to vomit. "We're not fools. Over the past week, we've been shifting through potential sponsors. Eventually we managed to make a deal with the Ootoris. They decided to fund the project in exchange for an equal percentage of it's profit."

His eyebrows eased from his scowl as he felt his heart sank. Kyoya... funding the reverse project? Hikaru tried staying neutral, but his cheeks started to twitch. He was getting angry. He was already being kicked while he was down, and this felt like a really sharp blow to his face.

This wasn't for the company. Even Fujibayashi wouldn't risk something like this. This was a declaration of war.

"Percentage of the profit? Are you an idiot?"

" _Hikaru_ ," his father warned.

"How are we supposed to benefit from this? It won't generate hardly any revenue in the mits of the lawsuit, and you want to give half of that away? What's the point of releasing it now? The only thing you're doing it screwing the Ootori's out of money. You're willing to sever of relationship with them over this?"

"Sounds like you know the lawsuit is the source of our problem," Fujibayashi said, and Hikaru went quiet. "Which is why we think it's a good idea for you to plead guilty."

He almost choked on his breath, looking towards his dad. " _What_?"

"That's not what I said-" his father started to mumble, but Fujibayashi spoke over him. "The trial is in 8 months. Do you know how the company will diminish financially in that time. This would benefit us."

Hikaru was finding it harder to get his words out. He was starting to sweat, and his breath staggered. He was losing it again, and somewhere far back in his mind he wished he hadn't have to told Haruhi to wait outside for him. He needed to hold onto something. His hands were shaking and his skin beneath his clothes tingled. It made him want to tear at it and bite at it. He hated this.

"You can't be serious," he managed.

"Let's be honest, the worst case scenario is that you get a year probation, at most." Daichi said, sensing he pushed those buttons again. Just like he'd wanted. "Plead guilty and we don't have to worry about the legal burden anymore. There's ways we can keep it under wraps. And we'll just tell have Cheiko tell the press that she lied. They'd be none the wiser."

Hikaru looked down at his plate of lunch that gone cold, kneading his hands into his shirt, _quiet_ , considering it for a moment, until his eyes clouded back. It was tempting. It's get the media off his back, and probation didn't sound so bad, but...

"Did Cheiko agree to that?"

Fujibayashi's voice sounded like a shrug. "It wouldn't take much."

The table rattled, as he suddenly pushed his chair back. "You're _sick_."

Daichi frowned. "You're making a scene."

"She's your _niece_ ," he almost shouted. "She could be telling the truth and you want her to _lie_?"

"Does that mean she's telling the _truth_? That you did it?"

Mr. Hitachiin tensed. "Fujibayashi, that's enough."

"Whatever happened is irrelevant to me, and I'm sure Cheiko's realized pressing charges was a mistake. She cares about the Ito-Co's reputation just as much as everyone else does. All of this is for the company's sake."

"I don't give a _shit_ about the company," Hikaru finally snapped He didn't mean to, but it made more sense getting angry, than collapsing, holding his head, and shouting over and over again that he didn't do anything wrong. In that case, he might cry.

He stood, taking the orange file with him, before he ripped the it in half down the spine. Hearing the paper shred hurt. He didn't imagine he'd end up hating something he'd worked so hard on.

Daichi opened his mouth, just as he turned his back to them. "We're still releasing the reverse project."

" _Rot in hell_." He spat.

His long strides stomped against the floor. He could feel their eyes burning into his back and tried to walk faster, which resulted in bumping into an unexpecting waitress, who he didn't have enough time to apologize to because when she'd called out to him he was already gone.

He was starting to feel the weight and closure of the walls, like they were closing in on him, threatening to smash him flat. He needed to leave. He needed air, and the elevator made it worse. It shut him in tight, and the descend down made his stomach turn.

The moment he stepped outside, he was stung by a breeze of hot air, and- thank _god_ she was right there.

She was sitting on a bench under a caged tree. Her face was pointed to the ground, and she looked deep in thought about something as she kicked at a leaf, until her faced turned up at the sound of the door opening in front of her. And, with her cup coffee abandoned, she started towards him, slowly, like an angle. Here to fix everything. And that analogy kind of scared him. Since when did he start depending on _her_?

Haruhi didn't even have the chance to greet him before she was pressed flush against him. His arms went around her shoulders, and they tucked her nicely under his chin, and the force had almost knocked her foot out of her shoe.

He held her tight, almost painfully, but not quite, and stuffed his nose into her shoulder, hiding his face into her hair that'd fallen out of her pins. His eyes closed, wishing he could sink into her completely and disappear.

" _Hey_ ," she grumbled into her shirt, but she fell on deaf ears. She was soft, and warm from the sun and he didn't want to let her go. Yet. And after a few, very long moments, she reached up and cupped his shoulders with her hands hands, patting lightly. Must be her lousy way of comforting him, he figured, but he liked it.

She was so _tiny,_ and thin. He felt if he squeezed too tight she might break. But she made the evil voices in his head seem so far away. She made him feel safe. Another thought that terrified him.

"You waited for me." He exhaled.

She scoffed. "You told me to." Well she did leave to see Kaoru, but that wasn't important. Then, after what seemed like an unpleasant thought, her cute little nose curled, like it did sometimes. "What's wrong?"

" _Nothing_ ," he breathed again. She smelt like sunshine. "I missed you is all."

"It's only been two hours."

He hummed as he considered that. No. Couldn't have been. The elevator ride alone felt longer than that. He feathered the pads of his fingers down her padded cheek before he pulled back, holding her at his arms length. "Hungry?"

"I had coffee." She answered, just as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. They were small but plump and pink. He they probably tasted like coffee then. He had a dangerous thought, about swiping his tongue against them. He imagined that muddy water she drank wouldn't taste so bad coming off her. _Fuck,_ he wanted to kiss her.

He swallowed that thought like it was a bad pill.

"Guess it was kind of rude to leave you for so long," he said, kind of strained, as his hands fell, but his eyes hung onto her a little longer, trapped at the curve of her blazer, where it hugged at her hip. "Noodles as an apology?" He teased.

Haruhi paused, eyes flickering at the thought of food. "And shrimp."

" _Perfect_. I'm famished."

"Didn't you just eat?"

"Eat with a bunch of _old guys_ when I could eat with a pretty girl? I think that question speaks for itself."

She didn't think much about that comment, mind mostly focused on Soba, as he slipped his hand into hers. Something that didn't feel weird anymore and actually, kind of nice.

"Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about all by yourself?" He asked.

"No," she said. That little bit of sweetness in her voice tugging a smile onto his lips. "I don't think I will."


	16. Chapter 15

**My Muse**

Chapter 15

* * *

Hikaru had been acting strange lately. She tried not to think about it. He was always having mood swings. She'd gotten used to that, but the last few days he'd been acting, what she could really only pinpoint it as "Not himself" and she itched to ask what had happened between him and his father that had put him in such a slump, but couldn't really piece together the words right, in a way that wouldn't set him off, like things sometimes did.

And then, today he called and said he was going to work, and she was actually thrilled to get out of bed that morning, because he hadn't been in _days._

But that only lasted until they pulled into the parking garage, and he didn't follow her as she got out of the car. He tugged a suspicious looking black bag out from the backseat and and pulled out a laptop, setting it on his lap.

Haruhi looked over her shoulder towards the office door. " _Uh_...what're you doing?"

"Hacking into the Company's security System." He said simply. Like this wasn't something she should be concerned about at all.

She narrowed her brow, and he turned to her just in time to see a cute curl bunched above her nose. " _Why?_ "

"If not, you won't be able to get into the developmental floor." He replied, just as easily, as he traded his aviators for a pair of seeing glasses that he had tucked into the center console.

Haruhi never realized that she might have a _thing_ for glasses, until Hikaru slid a pair on over his perfect face. They sat at the base of his nose, and they reflected the numbers that flashed across his laptop like an animation. Her toes tingled inside her shoes and she slowly sunk back into her seat and closed the door.

"You're... not coming in with me?" she strained, suddenly feeling a warmth inside her belly. "Then what're we doing?"

He smiled. A kind of soft and exciting smile. A smile that told her they were about to get into trouble. A dimple appeared in his cheek as he turned to her, and she was lucky to be sitting down, because her legs had gone weak.

"Now might be a good time to tell you what we're doing today." He said.

"That'd be _helpful_."

"I need you to go inside and _steal_ something for me."

Her brain finally turned off. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"Well it's _mine_ ," he added with a tight grumble, "so it's not _stealing_ , we just need to make sure no one sees you take it. It'll be _fun_. Like an _espionage_ mission."

Her eyes flickered wearily from the things that looked like absolute nonsense to her on his laptop, then back to his handsome, mischief ridden face. It almost calmed her- _No._ No it didn't. She blinked away that thought. He wasn't handsome. Well... he _was_ , but only in a _general_ sense. It wasn't anything special to _her_.

Her thoughts were becoming foggy. The air between them felt hot even if he looked unbothered, and found herself easily following his lead. "What do I have to do?"

"I just need some material from one of the computers."

"Why don't _you_ get it?"

He went quiet. and she saw the peak of one of his teeth pinch his lip. "Let's just say I took leave from the company for a little while, so it'd be kind of awkward if I suddenly showed up."

"You look nervous." He said quickly afterwards, changing the subject, " _Don't_ be. I'll walk you through it."

He pulled something from his pocket and she opened her hand on instinct. It was a blue tooth and something red and small. She was going to guess it was a USB. Just a few things she wasn't familiar with. She looked at the hard-drive like it was alien. "Kind of wish you had told me earlier what we were going to do today."

Hikaru laughed softly through his nose, but pretended to pout. "If I had told you, you wouldn't have come."

"That's the point."

"Don't worry. You'll be fine." He promised softly, and she hated how it kind of helped. He was always good at the sort of thing. Changing his voice. Making him so beguiling it was hard for her to resist. He took back the blue tooth as it sat idly on her fingertips and pushed back her hair. She leaned in, closer than necessary, and felt his warm fingers fix it until it laid properly inside her ear. His hands lingered longer than necessary too. As did their faces. They were so close their breathed fogged their glasses, but just as Haruhi felt as if she'd melt right into her seat, he pulled away, beaming brightly, like he was having the time of his life.

He tapped his index against his ear, where his own bluetooth sat. "I'll be with you the whole time."

And somehow, that was all she needed to convince her, because now, she was punching in the floor number outside of the elevator. Trapped inside Ito-Co. The feeling she had in her stomach earlier as she was nearly pressed against Hikaru quickly changed to something a little more complicated than fear, or uneasiness. If she had to be honest, it made her nauseous. And if it wasn't for Hikaru constantly breathing something into her ear, she was sure she would have thrown up by now.

She really hated being so impressionable.

"This doesn't feel right," she said, quietly, as the doors shut in front of her and she was finally alone. "Everyone keeps looking at me. I feel like a criminal."

"We're not doing anything wrong," he said delicately, and she could hear that soft smile in his voice.

"Then why are you _whispering_?"

"Why are _you_ whispering?"

That came out like a breathless sign, and that tingle she felt in her toes before found it's way up her back. She breathed out staggered, trying really hard to ignore _that_.

"What do I do _now_?" She asked, feeling her nerves coming back as the doors opened to a busy floor. A few men were already looking at her as they passed her for their turn in the elevator.

"The Developmental room is behind that big ugly silver door in the corner." Hikaru said in her ear, and her eyes immediately fell on it. It _was_ ugly, but security looked tight on it. An armed security guard wondered near by. He was much older than her, and looked distracted by his coffee, but she could still feel a great big blob of sweat linger at the base of her neck. Only feeling that little bit of ease once he spoke up again.

"Once I cut security, you've got at least fifteen minutes to get in and out before they notice and switch it back on. Otherwise you'll be stuck in there." He said, and he must've heard the strange gasp that emitted from her throat just then, as he continued, "Don't think about it too much. The guys running the control room are super slow and on their lunch break right about now."

"I feel like you've done this before."

"A few times. But only for fun."

"I'm gonna throw up."

"If you're nervous, I could sing you a song."

" _No_."

"Your loss, I've got great pitch."

As if he was feeling like she might need _some_ kind of encouragement, Hikaru went on to tell her which faces to look out for, and the age old gossip that went along with them, except Haruhi was so high on nerves, he just sounded like a distant mumble.

She walked slowly to the door, trying hard to follow his past advice and _not_ look over her shoulder, as she stared at the thumb pad on the door. She pretended to punch in a number, like he told her to, and cleared her throat - the signal - and the red light then flashed green before it shut off. She immediately pushed open the door, not wanting to waste a second of her precious, and terribly unreasonable time limit.

Though inside of the room wasn't nearly as nerve-wracking as she thought. It was staged like a comfortable lounge. Or a fancy waiting room, with pure white tile, and plush turquoise wing chairs. Along the opposite side of the room, glass doors lined the wall. Inside there she could see people bustling, but no one was around her now, and she finally let out a breath from deep inside her chest. Hikaru totally owed her a coffee after this.

"How you doing, perfect girl?" He cooed.

"This is _not_ in my job description."

"You're almost there," he said, and she glared up at the surveillance camera in the corner. Was he watching her? _Prick_. "See that door closest to the window? It's in there."

She followed his lead, walking quietly to the door. It was just a standard wooden door. A little worn. It was amusing how the modern and the old seemed to be intertwined within Ito-Co. Like two people couldn't agree on one thing.

Behind that door was a small, square room. No bigger than her office at the firm, with hardly anything besides a desk and chair. Her eyes fell on the open lid of a laptop and figured that must be the one. She sighed, "What'd I do _now_?"

"This is the fun part," Hikaru piped up. "Now listen carefully. That little hard-drive you have has a _two_ _thousand_ gigabit capacity. Impressive isn't it? I made it- _anyway,_ all you're going to do is transfer a file from the laptop to that drive. Pretty straight forward."

His straight forward was obviously not the same as her straight forward. This laptop was way more advanced than her desktop at the firm. She barely touched the mouse pad and the keyboard illuminated a bright red color. It looked evil. Once he walked her through the password, her fingers started to shake again, being greeted with graphs and numbers. So. Many. _Numbers_. Her head hurt. At this rate he was going to buy her dinner, too.

"Now, do you see a blue file in the corner of the screen?" He asked, but she almost couldn't hear him over her furious heartbeat. "Click that, and inside there should be another file, under the name _Reverse Project_."

She did as he said, but was lost on the second step. "I don't see _Reverse_. There's... _Inverse_ Project."

"What?" He half shouted in her ear and she flinched. "He _renamed_ it? What an _ass._ Mine was better- _Whatever_ , go ahead and transfer that one."

"How?"

" _What_? With the _hard drive_. You plugged it in, didn't you?"

Haruhi looked down at the USB still in her hand. "When was I supposed to do _that?_ "

"Just click on the file and plug it in. It'll do the rest on it's own" She did, after contemplating a little too long on which box to plug it _into,_ there was three different ones, and once she did, the laptop made a loud _bing_ sound and a loading sign appeared. She felt her heart nearly leap from her throat.

" _There_ ," Hikaru chirped, as she sunk into the chair. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I _hate_ this."

"You're doing fine, perfect girl."

She frowned at that nickname again. "Perfect _girl_?"

"Your _undercover_." He defended. "It's _cute_."

"Why am I the only one with a _name_?"

"If you want, you can call me _daddy_."

"On second thought, I'm fine with what we had."

"Spoilsport."

Hikaru's voice then started to face in and out as he rambled. A few minutes had gone by since she came in but she wasn't sure how many, and he didn't seem interested in letting her know.

But so far so good, the bar was loading smoothly, and fast. The sooner it loaded, the sooner she could leave and the sooner she could throttle him. Which sounded like a good plan, until the bar stopped at 99% and she could hear a distinct, deep and mellow voice outside the door, chiming something about food and... _puppies?_

Thankfully, it loaded before they could come any closer, and Haruhi ripped the USB from the laptop, leaving everything as it was as she hurried to the door, filing through every terrible middle-schooler worthy excuse she could think of, to explain why she somewhere she shouldn't be. And figured, "I got lost!" was her best option.

And regrettably, that's exactly what came tumbling out of her mouth in a panicked gasp as she left the room backwards to shut the door, as quietly as she could, and walking right into someone's chest.

" _Woah_ there. _Careful_." They laughed behind her, amused as they steadied her shoulders as she stumbled forward. "Just a minute darling, I've seem to have found a lost kitten."

Haruhi whirled around, mouth moving around a silent apology, as she looked him up and down as he pocketed his phone. He was a man. Tall and broad, and kind of intimidating, but his eyes were soft and his chiseled chin and cheekbones were defined with a trimmed, 5 oclock shadow. He looked important, dressed in a shiny black suit and a gold collared shirt. And she had just _rammed_ into him.

She wanted to wither into nothing and _die_.

"I'm... _sorry_." She muttered.

"It's quite all right. I'm used to it." He dismissed, smiling. He seemed to be a fan of heavy eye contact, as he stared into her face. "You don't look familiar, though that might just be my old mind talking. What's your name?"

" _Fujioka_." She answered.

"Neh, Haruhi? Who are you talking to?" Hikaru asked, but before he could say anything more, she tugged her earpiece off and stuffed it into her pocket. He wasn't that helpful anyway.

"Fujioka? That's _right_. I _have_ seen you around." He said, eyes twinkling. Their rich, golden hazel looked oddly familiar. "With Hikaru mostly. You're his _lawyer,_ right _?_ It's a pleasure to finally introduce myself properly _._ I'm Hikaru's father _._ "

"How _is_ he, by the way?" He asked, in a suspiciously sugary tone. Like he already knew. "Getting into trouble? Is he here with you?"

"He's _ill_ ," she nearly choked. "Very ill. He's bedridden. It's terrible."

"Ah, that's too bad. Yuzuha wanted to invite him home for dinner tonight."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he takes a rain-check."

"Would you? I'll take your word for it. Kaoru says Hikaru's got a hard time saying no to you."

Haruhi went quiet as she thought about that. _Did_ he? She certainly had a hard time saying no to _him_. Something that was really starting to comeback and bite her in the ass.

"Well," she took a deep breath, tightening her fist around the hard-drive. "I guess I better get back to him. "

"Of course," he agreed, stepping out of her way. He was nice. It was fortunate to know most of the Hitachiin's _were._

"Oh, and _Haruhi_?" he piped up again, behind her, and she stopped. "Could you tell Hikaru to stop hacking into the security system? I _do_ hate it when he does that. It's _very_ taxing."

And a _raise_. She decided. She deserved a _raise_.

* * *

" _Here_ ," Haruhi spat, shoving the hard drive into Hikaru's face, as she settled back into her seat of his car, refusing to make eye contact with him and his stupid, attractive, smiling face. He could keep that to himself now. At least until they get back home.

 _His_ home, she bitterly corrected her thoughts. Not _theirs._ Even though, she _had_ gotten comfortable there.

Hikaru took her hand, along with the hard-drive that fit snugly between their fingers, and brought it under his nose. Then, he kissed her knuckles, firm but fondly. His warm, smooth lips leaving such a strange foreign sensation on her hand, she had to turn back and look at him, and when she did she swore her legs went numb.

A beautiful, playful smirk blessed his lips next. "Thank you." He said. And it was the most genuine, honeyed thing she'd ever heard.

" _Whatever_ ," was the only thing she managed to say.

"I _mean_ it. This is important to me." He promised, taking the USB. "This is practically my life's work."

"Practically?"

"Well, two years of it at least, but same thing."

Haruhi sighed. She couldn't be mad at him. Especially as she cradled her hand in her lap, knuckles still shiny from his chapstick.

"Should we go home now?" he suggested.

"Food first."

Hikaru laughed, and she shot him a look that practically screamed 'Y _ou owe me'_ and he stopped _._ "Alright. Where to then?"

"Ramen."

"Again? Dream bigger perfect girl."

"...Tonkatsu."

" _Wonderful_."

* * *

Ever since Haruhi had mentioned her that day, he couldn't get her out of his head. It was _vile._ Like poison. She was like an itch that never really went away. Literally, and figuratively. The rash on his neck came back again, from _stress_.

That's what his therapist said at least. But to him, it was more than that. It was something buried deep. Something really dark and repulsive. It was more than hatred. Yeah, he hated her, but it was more than that. Something he couldn't put his finger on. Just thinking about her made everything he ate taste like cardboard. It wasn't _fear_ , though he was afraid, more than anything, that he might see her again. But more than that, he was afraid that _Hikaru_ might see her again. It was always Hikaru.

Which is how he found himself _here_ , slumped against a couch, back pressed against the shiny leather. He hated _that_ , too. It crinkled when he moved.

"So, you can't _sleep_." Dr. Inoue spoke up, her bifocals sliding to the tip of her nose as she turned her face down at him. He didn't like that either. Her eyebrows were always so _critical._

"When was the last time you slept?" She asked, just as scathing as she wasn't even trying. That was impressive.

"The night before," Kaoru said. He'd been up for thirty six hours now, but he wasn't very tired. Only when he tried to concentrate on work. "It's not _serious_. Mother's just paranoid."

"I could prescribe you with the sleeping tablets Hikaru's on. They seem to work well for him."

"I don't want _medication._ " He complained. "Just _fix_ me."

Inoue crossed her leg, rubbing her fingers into the crease between her brow. "Kaoru, you have post traumatic stress. I can't just snap my fingers."

"You need a _vacation_ ," she said, writing something down. He wondered what that was. "I know it's difficult to do with that lawsuit, but you need to take a step back from Hikaru."

"I haven't seen him in two weeks." He argued. And that was far too long already. "I haven't even _called_ him." Texts don't count.

"But you're thinking about him. You're even thinking about him right now."

"It's all cause Haruhi asked about her." He decided stiffly, not wanting to admit that he was. What did she know anyway? Besides her three PHDs. "Can't we talk about that?"

"This isn't about Airi," she glanced at the clock as she said that. "It's about Hikaru's overdose. That's why you can't sleep."

Kaoru scratched at his neck again. "But that's not what I think about all night. Just her _dumb face_ all the time. Can't I have her banned from the country due to emotional harassment?"

She ignored that. "Hikaru's accident is why you think about Airi. Because you still think it's her fault."

"It _is_ her fault."

"You need a _break_." She said, as she looked him over thoughtfully. Making sure to take a note, that he was itching at his neck _again_. "When was the last time you've been on a _date_?"

Kaoru scoffed, tongue in his cheek. She said that like it was hard to believe he'd been on one recently. Which was true, but still- _Rude._ "I don't have time for that. " He said.

"Because of Hikaru?"

" _No_." Maybe.

"What about Masaru?" She asked. "He was nice."

"He called me a _diva_."

"You _are_ a diva."

He frowned, be that as it may. "He said that as if it's a _bad_ thing. And I'm _sorry_ , but I have standards."

After a moment, she closed her notebook. Her face, for the first time that afternoon, making an expression other than a scowl a mother would give when scolding her child. It was softer. It was disappointment, but not at him. She seemed to be thinking harshly about something. He wondered what that was.

"He's holding you back, you know," she breathed out, clicking her pen closed. "He always has. And he doesn't want to."

Ah, so it was _this_ again. Whatever happened to shit-talking Airi? He wanted to go back to that.

"Yeah well," Kaoru exhaled. "At this point I don't know why anyone's surprised."

"Try to take what I said earlier to heart at least," Inoue said, and he guessed that was his cue to leave. "A distraction would be good for you."

Distraction? he mused he words, dismissively, as he walked into the lobby. How could everyone just assume Hikaru was his problem? And why a distraction? Why did he have to distance himself from his brother all because of some stupid witch? Why wasn't it ever _her_ fault? Not that he was surprised. She'd always been able to walk away from everything unscathed.

His neck was kinked, and his hand was in mid-scratch when something peculiar caught his eye. A lovely, head of reddish brown hair, was stepping out of the elevator besides his. Two small hands clutching a pretty pink, and awfully large shopping bag. It wouldn't have interested him so much had the bag not shown a crest of his family's department store, and the lady not have been a certain someone.

Though, what was she doing in therapy?

"Cheiko?" He tried to greet her, but it came out as an awkward croak as she nearly leaped from her skin. Her hands bringing her bag closer to her. Definitely signs of someone being sneaky. - He smirked at the thought.

She looked up, through thin wefts of her hair, flushed and shaky. Which was sad, truly. Because they used to be friends.

"What?" she replied quietly, shoulders buckling into the plush of her hoodie.

"Just a wild place to see you." He offered her a jesting smile, because it looked like no one had given her one today. And it looked like she was just coming from Dr. Himura's office. He was his Hikaru's therapist once. He was a dick. "Do you come here often?" Just a little joke he and Hikaru used to say to each other.

He watched her swallow, contemplating her answer for a few moments, before she mumbled, " _No_."

"And you?" She said, a little firmer.

"Sometimes," His smile touched his eyes. "But I don't really want to talk about it."

"Neither do I."

He looked down at her bag, itching to ask what was inside. "So, where you headed?"

She looked wearily towards the window when she said that, then down towards his sneakers. "I don't know."

"Guess I'm in luck," Keeping his therapist's wise words in mind, he continued. "I'm heading to lunch. Would you join me?"

Her forehead wrinkled in thought. _Cute_. "But it's past lunch time."

Kaoru pretended to look at his wrist, where there wasn't a watch. "Suppose it is. How's about cake and coffee then?"

"...With me?" She hesitated.

"Only if you want to," he said, "Although, it's no fun ruining your apatite all by yourself, now is it?"

"Suppose not."

This wasn't a date. Although it was something he could rub into Inoue's face later. What was it that she said? A _distraction?_

He grinned. "Fabulous."


	17. Chapter 16

**My Muse**

 _Chapter 16_

* * *

Yazuha opened her phone that afternoon and found that her name was trending topic. Or more specifically, her last name, and under every hashtag, one of her sons was the bud of ridicule.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth. And it wasn't just from her necklace she was biting into. It was because it used to be _her_.

She was the head of a company she built from just as idea she came up with in the shower. She was young, only nineteen, already a mother of two and wasn't even married yet. She was "incompetent" and "wouldn't last five years." Her clothes were ugly, her hair was too short, and she was a fool to have children with a _nobody_. Just a _boy_ , who's only selling point was his father's newly established software company, that was already tasting the first stage of bankruptcy.

She was only twenty-three when the host objectified her and she made her last appearance on a live broadcast.

They all had the ability to file you straight down to bone.

And she could see they were doing the exact same thing to Hikaru and Kaoru. She just couldn't do anything about it.

Her pretty, bright red nail was scratching against her phone screen as she flipped through the comments just as the door to her office opened slightly, and her assistant quietly slipped through the thin crack between it and the door frame.

Trying hard not to be noticed, she figured, as the tiny girl flinched as she called out to her.

"Yuri," she perked up. "Is Kaoru back yet?"

Yuri was 4'11, with a small face and long black hair, and walked funny in her heels, and very well looked like a little glass doll from where she stood, with the whole length of her office between them. Especially with the way her face instantly took on a shade of pink once she mentioned her son's name.

"Kaoru? No." She said quickly. "No. He's not here yet. Maybe he got held up?"

Yazuha looked her over suspiciously. "Ah, are you hiding him in your office again? Yuri you fiend. I'm telling your father."

She gasped and surprisingly was able to turn a deeper shade of red. "I'm not! I really haven't seen him- And that's not what that was! We were only talking."

Yazuha cackled teasingly at her, her cheeks feeling numb as that was the first time that morning she had smiled. It felt strange. \

"Probably ran off to the cake shop again," she bet, "Be sure to smell for cake frosting the next time you two are fondling behind my back."

She nearly choked. "I- Madam!"

Deciding she'd done enough damage now, she gestured towards the cup of coffee that cradled in her fingers. "Is that mine?"

Yuri only nodded, biting her cheek in a pout as she counted her steps as she made her way to the fainting couch, were Yazuha had perched herself on, Although, she could only wonder why she called for coffee when she already had a glass of sherry hanging between her fingers.

She passed her the flimsy paper cup, getting a fair glance at the bags underneath her long lashes.

"Are you alright, Ma'am? You look pale."

"It's the lighting." she said unconvincingly, with a smile, flashing her teeth like a wrist of pearls. "Ah, speaking of which - It's terrible in here. Call to have our light crew bring more bulbs in. I want to look my best for that interview Monday."

Yuri nodded, reaching for her pocket notebook, unsure. The lighting didn't look bad to her. Yazuha's office was practically all glass. "Yes, madam."

"Ah Yuri- Hikaru hasn't called for Kaoru today, has he?"

"I haven't heard from him in months actually."

"Ah," she sighed, making a futile attempt to mask her disappointment. "I suppose that's a good thing, then."

"...Suppose."

* * *

It wasn't a date. It was just a casual cup of coffee, and a piece of cake.

It wasn't a date, even though they were sharing a plate.

But it wasn't a date, because even though she used to be his friend, he saw her an an enemy today.

It wasn't a date, because he knew he had ulterior motives. And he almost felt bad, because she didn't seem to notice.

" _Caramel_ ," she mumbled quietly, and his hand stopped, mid-scratch.

"Pardon?"

"How did you know I liked caramel on cheesecake?" She asked, there wasn't an ounce of suspicion in her voice. Just curiosity. "It's not even on the menu."

"Do you not?" he muttered, amused at the way she had scooped all the caramel off to the side and was now eating it plain. "Ah, it's Hikaru's favorite, so I guess I pick it out of habit."

Cheiko smiled halfheartedly. " _Is it_."

No. It wasn't. " _Sorry_ ," Kaoru's face fell. "Let's talk about something else."

Trap Set.

But her reaction to that wasn't what he was expecting. Though to be fair, he wasn't sure _what_ he was expecting. A scoff maybe? A lame attempt to change the subject? Instead, her eyes lowered to her latte and she didn't respond at all. And the silence that fell between them after that made him uncomfortable.

He took a sip of his iced coffee, and it caught in his throat, now feeling a little guilty for even mentioning him. "Cheiko-"

"So that's why you invited me out here." She said and he tensed, nearly choking on an ice cube. "Are you _mad_ at me?"

Kaoru's mouth gaped, as the gears in his head were taking a particularly long time to start working. So he wasn't being as discrete as he _thought_.

" _What_?" he played dumb, retreating into his seat like that accusation caught him off guard. "No I-"

He stopped, lowering his voice, watching her face twinge, suddenly feeling a little guilty. He never had a spine of steel like his brother in these cases.

"Why would you think that?" He asked gently.

She fiddled with the end of her fork, turning her poor piece of cake into a pile of _moosh_. "I know how they're treating him at the office."

Kaoru's first reaction was a deep rumble that came from his throat. Were they treating him _badly_? Haruhi hadn't said anything about it...

His second reaction was slouching into his chair, with his arms over his chest. "But that's not _your_ fault."

"I heard he hadn't been back since that fight he had with your father." She added. "So I thought that's why you invited me here."

A fight with dad too? When? He dropped his chin into his hand in a pout. "Guess I've been out of the loop."

"...So it's not about Hikaru?"

"As surprising as it sounds, I'm not all that caught up in Hikaru's life anymore." He stifled a laugh, but as that realization sunk in, it was kind of _sad_. "And do I really need a reason to invite you for coffee? Honestly, you act like I bite."

"No, you don't." She mumbled. " _Sorry_. The cake's... _nice_. Thank you."

His scoff was met with silence as he was stuck watching her swish a blueberry around in the caramel. He didn't mean to stare, but the way her elbow perched on the table made her sleeve fall, and he could see a strange shadow across her wrist. It looked a little like a ring. And a little purple. Like a _bruise_.

That thought made him look up to the small bruise on her face he noticed earlier outside of the elevator, and his conscious eventually was wrapped too far around the theories running through his mind that he barely heard what she said next.

"Are you two fighting?"

"Fighting?" he murmured, wondering if he heard right. With _Hikaru_? He almost laughed again. "No. No, we're not _fighting_. We don't fight."

He stopped again to think. _Why? Is he mad at me?!_

"You said you don't know what he's up to anymore." Chieko said. "I thought you must not be talking."

"We _talk_ ," he answered, defensively, thinking back to the good morning text he'd sent to his brother before leaving for work that day. Then again, he never responded... oh god he _is_ mad _. Why Hikaru?!_

"That's good then," she decided, quietly, her face relaxing at last, in a sad, and a relieved sort of way, before finally taking a bite of her cake, but with a spoon this time. "At least he still has you."

"Yeah," he agreed, hesitantly, watching her stare intently into her coffee cup. He wasn't sure why, but he no longer could stomach anymore cake. "I _guess_." He pushed away his plate.

She made a face at that comment. Like his uncertainty hurt her almost as it hurt him, and she finally raised her head, meeting his gaze for the first time since they sat down. "Nothing will happen to him, _right_?"

He didn't know how to respond. " _What_?"

"You _promise_ you won't let anything happen to him."

Kaoru was taken aback by the desperateness in her voice. It _scared_ him. Like she was _afraid_ of something. Something that could happen to _Hikaru_. Though, for some reason, it sounded like she already knew what that was.

"Oh, _Cheiko_ ," he sighed, "What have you done."

* * *

Haruhi hugged her arms around herself, curled into a half ball on the floor, between the couch and coffee table.

He left her alone again.

He told her to sit tight, before disappeared into his bedroom. He'd been oddly cheeky sine they'd snuck out of Ito-Co. (He said snuck, but they really couldn't have been more obvious) and seemed pretty smitten with himself, all the way up the stairs to his studio apartment, holding her hand, while the flash drive was clasped inside his other fist. Like he was afraid to let it out of his sight -until he laid it on the table next to her for safe keeping to fetch his laptop -.

She picked up the flash drive, and caressed it under her thumb, amazed that Hikaru's life work could fit inside something so small. And to think, she thought his life's work was his painting, but she never seen him as at peace with himself while painting, as he did just talking about this project. In fat, she' never heard him talk so much about anything.

She only wished she understood what it was actually about. He lost her at Nvidia Pascal Graphics or _whatever._

When he came back, he tucked himself beside her and a cushion that'd fallen off the sofa, and perched his precious laptop, that looked more like a small flat screen with a keyboard, and took the flash drive from her like he was plucking a small flower, then shoved it into the computer and sat back, waiting for it to work it's magic, as he called it.

The files started to load and he took her hand again, immediately rubbing circles over her knuckles. It was just then, she noticed he did that a lot now, but that thought didn't stay with her for long. And as the computer took it's time retrieving folders from the drive, she started to relax against him - the crook between his chest and his arm serving as quite a nice pillow - and- _weird_ , he smelt different today. He must've changed his cologne.

"What's wrong?" He spoke up quietly, and she looked up, making the grave mistake of meeting his eyes.

"You've been quiet." He said.

She starting making something up, because _well_ , she couldn't very well tell him what she was actually thinking. Then, she remembered-

"Hikaru?"

He hummed, chin sitting in his hand, and his elbow resting on his knee, pinkie thumping against his cheek. He looked back after she didn't respond, and saw a weird look on her face. Like she was thinking too much. "What's wrong?"

She almost forgot to breathe as he started to lean in closer, the longer it took for her to continue.

"How come... you don't talk to your mom anymore?"

He stopped, and immediately he could feel his face distorting out of place. "What brought _that_ up?"

"Your mom invited you to dinner tonight, but you said you didn't want to go." She said.

"I haven't gone home for dinner in years,it'd be kind of awkward if I suddenly showed up." He tone sounded like a shrug and she wanted to roll her eyes.

"That's what you said last time."

"What's it matter?"

"I mean, aren't you lonely?" She said. "I haven't thought about it but you're always alone here when I leave and Kaoru doesn't come by anymore."

"What're you getting at girly?"

"That you should have dinner with your family tonight." She finally huffed.

Hikaru hesitated, pretending to contemplate that, lips tweaked for the whole show, before adding quietly. "Honestly, Haruhi, if you want to stay for dinner that badly, you could have just _asked_. As if I'd say no to _you_."

Haruhi ignored that. "So I guess you're not going to tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"It's that bad, huh?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about."

She frowned. "I'm envious of all the girls who've actually gotten your to talk about your _feelings_."

"Ah, well, if it makes you feel better, it's not many."

"Not sure if that does."

He just scoffed. "Maybe later."

They were both silent after that. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence that seemed to gnaw at her. It was a safe, and peaceful. His thumb grazing the side of her leg, after leaning it against his thigh, but just as she was about to lose her eyes and slouch against his shoulder for what she thought was going to be a well deserved nap, the laptop rang like a bell, and the screen lit up a bright blue, announcing all 65 _,798_ files had been received.

" _Holy_ _shit_." He blurted out and she scrambled up in a panic.

" _What_?"

"You must've downloaded his computer's entire memory onto the thumb drive."

She paled, wanting to insist that it wasn't _her_ fault, and that he _made_ her do it. "What does that mean?"

"Means he's going to be pretty mad when he goes to open his laptop and it's _empty_."

Haruhi almost choked on her gasp, her mind already trying to figure out how illegal this was and how much time she'd have to serve. "I thought we were just copying it. You didn't say we were transferring all of his stuff!"

"It's pretty cool huh?" He flashed his little thumb drive a proud grin. "Sure can hold a lot. I made it by the way. This was mine."

"Hikaru!"

"In my defense, I did say only _one_ file. This was you, cupcake."

" _Oh my god_."

"Oh wow! His pictures _too._ I'mma peak."

Her heart sank for down into her stomach that she almost threw up. And reached over to try and close the laptop. "We have to put it _back_. Maybe he hasn't gone home yet. If we leave right now we could probably-"

He took her hand as she leaned over him, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles once before entwining their fingers and bringing her fist to his chest. Just above the slit of his shirt, where she could feel the warmth of that little bit of exposed skin. It made her bite down hard on her tongue, swallowing what she was going to say next, and quickly made her loose interest in what he was snooping through on the laptop.

She was so focused on their hands, his hands. and the sound of his breathing, and watching every time he took a breath, that she didn't notice what he was looking at until his grip tightened around her fingers and he tensed. She felt a hot whisk of breath fan across her hand then, quickly pulled away from him.

"Jesus Christ." He hissed.

He was snooping, she figured, but she wasn't going to, and pointedly turned her face away so she couldn't - That'd give her less to say in court once he'd _sue_ \- until curiosity got the best of her.

But cursed herself not a second later, as she immediately got a view of someone's partially covered breasts. To which she groaned aloud and quickly shut her eyes again. " _Typical_."

"Haruhi," His voice strained. It was a sound she'd never heard from him before. It was like he was in actual _pain_. It made her nervous to look at him. "That's _Chieko._ "

The mention of her made her want to look even less, they were currently in legal battle with her, but she did anyway, and while she'd never actually gotten a good look at Chieko's face before, she could tell the woman in the photos were her. The girl she'd seen in court, hiding behind a giant ugly coat, and the girl she could see in the photo, holding her arms to her chest, wearing nothing but two thin pieces of lingerie, both hung their head with the same look of pitiful shame.

Her eyes traveled down, over the pictures of Chieko that took up the entire screen. Each of her holding a different pose. In different pieces of provocative clothing. Some were even of her holding her hand out to cover the camera's view as she changed.

Her initial shock dissolved as Hikaru started to scroll past the pictures, and they saw pictures of a different atmosphere. They were from a distance. One was a picture of Cheiko just leaving a department store. And one of her sitting outside of an ice cream parlor by herself. And one of her walking through the door of a tall glass skyscraper. It definitely looked like Cheiko was a victim of some creepy stalker.

Though It was one in the corner that made her take his hand off the mouse.

" _That one_." her voice hitched, making him flinch. "That picture- It's the one from court."

Still quiet, Hikaru watched as she leapt from her place beside him and started to dig through her bag. He lifted his brow as she ripped a picture from a folder - and held it up to the computer screen.

He looked between the two, feeling weirdly sick to his stomach. It was the picture of a bruise she'd said was from that night at the hotel. It was one he never wanted to see again.

"What about it?" He mumbled. Sure, it was weird Fujibayashi would have that picture on his computer, but it wasn't unfathomable.

"Look at that one up there," she said, pointing to one of Chieko in a dark setting, posing in a lacy piece he recognized as a set from one of his mother's newest lingerie line. "Zoom in here." He made a strange face, but obeyed, zooming in on a portion of her face, where he just now realized was a bruise.

"It's the same picture." She said. "Look. The lighting and angle is the same, and she's even wearing the same necklace."

"You think..." he paused, waiting for the gears in his head to start running faster. "She used the alteration of an old picture... in court?"

"I've seen crazier things."

"But," he frowned, still looking between the two photos, "that would mean she's lying about it."

"And if she's lying about _this_ , then she's probably lying about she's said."

His face looked devastated, which honestly wasn't the reaction she thought.

"But then," he snatched the picture out of her hand, "Where did she get this from?"

The bruises? Haruhi looked over all the other photos from the same demented photo-shoot. All from different angles, showing other red marks and welts on her body. "If I had to take a wild guess, I'd say It's from the same person who took all these pictures."

Suddenly, he stood and slammed the laptop shut. Ripping away the thumb drive in the same feral swoop. He made it one full stride towards the door until he was jerked back as she latched onto his wrist.

"Where are you _going_?"

"I have to go see her."

And tell her what?"

"You saw the _pictures_. If she's lying, there something's going on."

"If she's lying, she's not going to tell you _why_."

He let out a breath of distress, looking down where her fingers dug into his arm. "Then what am I _supposed_ to do?"

" _Nothing_." She said, and he shrunk back a little, as she laid both her small hands over his, eventually prying away the thumb drive. "Nobody can know we found the pictures like this. You'll get in trouble."

"And they're not on his laptop anymore." She added," Right now they're on _your_ thumb drive, which gives them every right to think you're the one who took those pictures. _You'd_ be the creepy stalker."

"So we finally have leverage and we're just going to ignore it?"

"We're going to wait until we have proof she's lying. _Legal_ proof."

He slumped his hand into his hoodie, still looking at the thumb drive peaking out from inside her fist. "So what'd we do with it?"

" _Hide_ it somewhere, and hope no one figures out who broke into his office today-" She said, before getting to their second problem. "Are there any reasonable explanations for a computer suddenly losing all of it's memory for no reason?"

Hikaru shrugged. "Not usually, but i'll think of something."

After saying it like that, Haruhi's eyes narrowed, distraught, and in pain from her chest down to her stomach. There was no way she managed to avoid all of the security camera. And even if the building was lacking in it's security like he said, someone had to have been suspicious of her. They could tell one of the higher ups. Hikaru's father was the chairmen, so he'd be let off easy but what about her? She was the one who went into his office. And Mr. Hitachiin even caught her leaving.

Her hands started to shake, as she ran them both into her hair, pulling it loose of it's pins. Hikaru saw, and grabbed her shoulders, turning her towards him. " _Hey_. Don't go having a panicking on me now."

"We're in deep shit, Hikaru." She admitted, her voice breaking. "I mean- If Fujibayashi finds out I was in there-"

He pulled her hands to him, and they were shaking. "Nothing going to happen. And if anyone finds out, I'll say it was all me. It's no big deal."

"What if he asks me about it?"

Her hands dropped to her sides as he cupped her face. Her fidgeting made her flush, and his hands felt cold, but she still tried to sink closer to him, and latched onto his sleeves just to hold him against her in a way he couldn't simply pull away and leave her trembling.

He swept piece of hair that was stuck to her face and rub his thumb over her cheek until she stopped biting it. "He _won't_. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll protect you, so don't worry about it okay? I'll fix it. Nobody's going to know."

"We're going to _prison_."

He pulled one of the loose pins out of her hair, opening it between his teeth. "We're not going to prison."

"And I- I still have _debt_."

He pushed the pin back into place above her ear. "So do I."

"And we're not going to be able to pay off our debt, because we'll be in _prison_."

Hikaru swept her bangs off her forehead and tilted her face up until she had no choice but to look him in the eyes, and it was then that her breath caught dead in her throat. Hikaru kissed between her eyes. Right on the worried knot above her nose. His warm breath fluttered over her lashes as he pulled away and she shivered, nearly melting right out of his arms.

When reality finally set and she felt him start to slip away, She slapped her hand over where his lips had been. "You _kissed_ me." She accused, quietly.

He scoffed. "You've got no _proof._ "

"Hikaru, this isn't funny." She almost sobbed. "I mean- what if you lose your inheritance over this? Kaoru will _end_ me-"

She winced, as he quickly pecked his lips against her cheek.

"I don't really care about that anymore." He said, pulling back. "And besides that, I really don't have anything left to lose."

Before she could say anything else, he kissed her other cheek, and this time she let escape a breathless laugh that stretched his lips into a pleasant grin. Without a spare thought, besides wanting to hear that sound from her again, he peppered light kisses across her freckles, while sneaking a hand up along her side to prod right below her ribs.

But before he could commit that sin, a familiar sound, that he was starting to find very annoying, rang from her back pocket. It meant play time was over.

"It's six o-clock." She said.

He said nothing as he stepped away. She had to go home.

"My offer for dinner still stands if you want to stay." He suggested.

"Tempting," she admitted, amused. "But then what would my fiancee eat?"

 _Fiancee?_

Ah, that's right. He almost forgot.


	18. Chapter 17

**My Muse**

 _Chapter 17_

* * *

Slowly and reluctantly, Hikaru tilted his body towards his alarm clock, as the piercing sound he forgot to dismiss punctured a hole between his eyes. And it was when he lifted himself on his elbows that his stomach turned and he finally realized what that terrible taste in his mouth was.

He drank last night - he guessed - from that, and the ugly hoard of Kiuchi bottles lines on his nightstand.

It'd been a long time. There were times he'd sneak shots of Miako's tequila she had hidden in his cabinets, but he couldn't remember the last time he was hungover.

He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to get drunk.

It took him a minute, of cursing at himself, and staring at the ceiling, but he remembered now. He was angry, and when he remembered, that sick feeling crept up to his chest, making his skin feel hot. He hated this feeling, and he hated being mad at _her_. And he was so blindingly angry, his head started to pulse.

Hikaru kicked the blankets away and rolled out from under the sheets. His bare feet smacking against the floor as he drug himself to the bathroom.

He _shouldn't_ be angry, he thought, as he drowned his face in his hands over the sink. He had no right to be, and it was no fair to her. She didn't do anything wrong.

But why'd she have to have a _fiancee_? He ran his hands down his face, stretching his cheeks. Of course he _knew_ , but he didn't think about it until he had to let her go last night. It never _really_ set in until it'd grown dark, and it was just him and his hand that occupied his bed that night, as he choked out her name in a desperate gasp.

Knowing that was the closest she'd ever be with him, while itching for that closeness _around_ him, left him feeling angry and lonely, and later, really, _really_ drunk.

And the longer he mulled over it, as the hot bath water showered his chest, the more he started to insist that his resentment was completely justified.

There was no way _Haruhi,_ who was beautiful and educated, and _accomplished_ actually saw any worth in _him_. That greasy looking bimbo he saw that day at the gallery show, who was leaning against the bar. An umbrella martini sitting between his fingers in his hand, and a desperate redhead latched onto his shoulder.

He was a _nobody_ , who thought his paintings were actually worth something. Which meant Haruhi probably supported him. Which made him even more angry.

Not only was he a greasy nobody- he was a _mooch_.

But before Hikaru could ponder anymore on- whatever his name was- a rattling _thud_ came from, what sounded like the downstairs door, and he yanked back the shower curtain to poke his head out.

Was someone here? He didn't usually company. Haruhi never showed up at his house without him calling him first, plus it was her day off, and Miako hardly ever came before noon.

He looked over towards his reflection in the foggy mirror above the sink, and thought about his brother. He hadn't seen him in over a _month,_ but he _was_ the only one with a spare key-

Fuck, and he looked like _shit_.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt guilty for that - or if he ever had been - but if Kaoru saw him now, he'd have a fit. And he couldn't do that to him. Not now. Especially with his show being so close. _God_ not now.

His skin was still damp when he shrugged on his clothes, stumbling into a pair of jeans he found on the floor, and barely gave himself enough time to dry his hair before he was dragging himself down the stairs.

And he was going to skip eating that morning, until he entered the main hallway and was immediately greeted with the distinct smell of fresh breakfast.

So Miako did show up on time?

 _Hmm_ \- impossible. She can't cook.

But hot sizzling food wasn't the only thing he found. His house was _clean too_. Now, he might have been drunk last night, but he definitely remembered the mess of burnt dinner he'd left on the table last night.

Hikaru was about to peak his head into the kitchen, but the mysterious visitor quickly made themselves known when he heard the cutest little swear word from the corner in the breakfast nook.

Then all that anger and jealousy he had buried under his skin melted into sweet nothingness, when he turned and saw her hands, partially covered by the sleeves of, hanging onto the frame of one of his paintings on the the wall. Her dirty shoes stretching with her as she stood on her toes.

His shoulder laid against the door frame, watching her with a smile on his face that he could feel. "You've got to be the _loudest_ art thief I've ever heard."

Haruhi snatched her hands back, turning around like she was a child caught for touching something she shouldn't have.

"You're lucky you're cute. Or else I'd call the authorities." He added.

Her face fell into a guilty frown. "Did I wake you up?"

"Wouldn't have been a shame if you did." He said, making his way over to her, until he was close enough to wrap his arm around her tiny waist. She looked warm, snuggled inside of her big knit sweater. He almost wanted to.

"Though, I have to ask," he admitted, reaching a hand up to tilt the crooked painting until it was straight, "what made you want to come and see me on your day off."

"I..." her voice broke, and he ached to hear whatever sweet excuse popped into her head first. "- was wondering about you."

He smirked as he lent down and nested his chin on her shoulder. "You were thinking about me?"

" _Wondering_."

"Same difference."

Her hand found his hair, as it brushed against her ear. And he sunk further into her, feeling her cool skin, still smelling like the fall outside. And somewhere, a hint of cinnamon. In fact, the whole room smelt like cinnamon.

He looked up and saw the tiny flare of an inscense poking out from a vase on the coffee table.

"What were you _wondering_ about?" He had to ask, amused. Liking the idea of _Haruhi_ leaving small traces of herself in his home. Making it smell like her.

"It's about last night." She was quick. It must've been weighing on her mind for a long time. "I didn't want to be awkward, but I was kind of worried. I didn't want to bother Kaoru for asking about you, so I thought I'd just come by this morning- Sorry, I should have knocked."

"And- _well_ ," she looked around awkwardly, "you weren't awake yet, _so..._ "

Last night? It made his head hurt from how fast the gears in his head started to turn, but he couldn't for the life of him remember anything from last night. Were they even together last night? He could have sworn he saw her off yesterday before dinner.

" _Last night_?" He mumbled.

"You don't remember?" She frowned.

 _Quick! girls hate it when you forget! Excuse! Excuse!_

"I'm hungover."

Nice.

He gasped.

-Wait _no_!

" _Oh_ ," Haruhi grumbled. She looked disappointed, and it was then that he noticed she had fished her hand into her pocket was was fiddling her thumbs over the screen of her phone. "I guess that makes since then."

"Wait, no, _no_ , _no_ " He panicked, and grabbed her hand and it felt so small in both of his, and kind of cold. He never wanted to let go of it. "Look, if I said anything wrong don't- _please_ don't overthink it. I had a long night. But I'm okay now."

"Oh," she said again under her breath, pulling her hand away, to sort of toss her phone between her hands. Her eyes left him, as she looked down towards the floor, and he could feel the ugly twinge of guilt creeping up to his stomach again. "Yeah... Okay. _Yeah,_ Forget it. It wasn't important."

He sighed, and felt two inches shorter when the tension left his shoulders. But the complex look never left her face. It was tempting to ask what it was exactly that he did or said to her, but even more so he wanted to hold her face and kiss away every worried line on her forehead until she forgot all about it.

But before he could even think about raising his hands that high, her hands were the ones reaching out to hold _his_ face. She cupped one hand over his cheek, and laid her other against his brow. But he stopped her once he realized what she was doing and pulled her hand away.

"I'm _okay_." He insisted.

"You have a fever." She argued.

"Leave it."

" _Fine._ Be that way _._ " She finally huffed, pulling at her sleeves. "But the least you could do is _eat_ something, since I went through the trouble."

Hikaru grinned. "Will you feed it to me?"

" _No_."

"You wound me."

* * *

Kaoru was thinking.

He was always thinking, but today was one of those times where he was thinking far too much about far too many things at once, that his coffee had gone cold and his work was left scattered across his station, in piles, completely abandoned.

And it was all because of a _girl_. It's been a long time since he'd thought about someone like that; or anyone, so vigorously. He was damn well exhausted just thought about yesterday.

Cheiko had reached across the table and took a hold of both his hands at once. He couldn't remember the time he held such intense eye contact with somebody, but at the moment, he felt as if his entire soul was trying to escape his body as she stared at him. It was exhilarating, and kind of terrifying.

And then she left. Without a word, and he stood up, wanting so badly to follow her and ask-... He wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her. He wanted to ask what she meant when she asked him not to let anything happen to _him_. He wanted to know what she was so afraid of. He wanted to know why she was so afraid for Hikaru, but words were hard to form as he watched her gather her things and leave.

And how he was thinking of all the ways he'd be able to see her again. Thinking of all the reasons why he'd need to call her again.

 _A Distraction._

His therapist's words felt like they were knocking on his temple.

But _distracted_ wasn't really the word he'd use right now. Even though, from an outside perspective, he did look wildly disconnected from his surroundings. A _little_ distracted _._

" _Kaoru_?"

"Earth to _Kaoru_."

Though it didn't take long for the song in his head to end, and finally realize the little voice mumbling that word wasn't his therapist, but his mother.

He jumped, tugging out his earpod, as a pair of fingers snapped in front of his face.

" _What_?"

"Focus, you're spacing out," Yazuha clapped his hands over the sketchbook he was leaning over, before snatching it out from under his elbow. "Little late in the game to be scribbling isn't it? Have you even called Gregory about the seating arrangements? Do you know if the venue you picked will fix everyone's plus one? We don't want anyone sitting on the floor."

"You're talking too much, I can't think." He shot back. "I'll _get_ to it. I've been busy."

"Where's your schedule? Have you at least finished that yet?"

Kaoru let out a long groan, as his mother's voice fluttered around him like anxious honeybee. He tilted his chair back onto it's back legs and shrugged a stack of papers out from this drawer. All 75 five papers weighed down her hand and she piped a cheery ' _very good_ ' before retreating to one of the chairs to ridicule it.

She clenched her jaw. "So you've picked blue lights instead of the purple?"

"They're showcase lights, mother, the venue's _grey_."

"I just don't think it's look as nice- but you know what? It's your debut. It's your decision."

"Thank you."

"It's you're failure. It's not like I tried to help or anything."

"I can't hear you, I'm relishing in my success."

But then there was a long pause, and all he heard was her long nails scratching against the paper.

"And... Hikaru's giving a speech" She said, in a curious mumble.

He shrugged. "I haven't asked him yet, but he'll do it."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Se asked, carefully.

But not carefully enough. Immediately he turned his chair around, brow flattening into a scowl. He looked away from his phone that was sitting lidly on his desk, ready to snap. " _What_?"

"To be honest, I don't think he should."

"I won't do it without him there."

"Kaoru, sweetheart." She tried to pick her words carefully. He could tell, and he just dared her to say the wrong thing.

Don't do it.

"You know I love Hikaru."

"Oh here we go." He groaned.

"But you have to understand you have to draw the line somewhere with him." She said, firmly, knowing she'd already lost him. "This is business. And this show is important to you."

"Not as important as Hikaru."

"Of course not." She sighed, softly. His skin felt like she was plucking him, then turning around and jabbing him with the pointy edge of a stick. "But Kaoru, you know the entire woman's rehabilitation association will be there."

"So?"

She deided to take a different route. "You know he gets uncomfortable around the press. It'll overwhelm him."

"Why are you trying to exclude him from everything? He didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm trying to do what'd best for _you_."

"What? Like he'll ruin it?"

"You know what I mean." She groaned. "Think about it from the business perspective. With Hikaru there, what're they going to say about you? The company's stock value dropped 4 percent since the lawsuit, and you want him to even give a speech at your closing ceremony?"

He felt a heat bubble in his chest. It'd been a long time since he was angry. It almost felt alien. "If Hikaru's not gonna be there, I'm canceling the show."

"Don't be like that." She frowned. "You can't prioritize him over the company when it's company matters. It'll ruin us like it ruined Ito-Co."

Suddenly, his chair slid across the room from the force when he stood. "That's not _Hikaru's fault_."

"You don't know that."

He stopped, and sunk back a bit, horrified. And Yazuha sighed again, interrupting him before he could get another word out. "Kaoru, you're going to be Chairman, you have to start making decisions that are best for the company, and Hikaru isn't apart of it, and he knows that-"

She flinched as she slammed his laptop shut, and watched as he swing his bag off the floor in one feral swoop. "Where are you _going_?"

He didn't say. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to get away, because there were a lot of things he _could say_. He'd have plenty of ammo, and he didn't trust himself not to say them. He couldn't even look his mother in the eye before storming out of the room.

* * *

Hikaru was concentrating exclusively, on the pretty hand that his own fingers held against his palm, before his eyes slowly trailed from the knuckle he'd just kissed to the pretty girl sitting in the space between his legs.

She hadn't looked at him for quite some time. She was too engrossed in the travel magazine that laid open on her lap to give him much thought, but before he could even think about trying to grasp her attention, his front door opened without warning, and with a heaving grumble from someone in the foyer, the door slammed shut.

That certainly got her attention. Haruhi ripped her hand away, and was on her feet before Hikaru could even register the fact someone had just come in.

"Kaoru?" She questioned, warily, and he turned to see his brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, red faced, and hair tussled. Both hands holding the handles of two thick suitcases.

"What're you doing?" He asked.

" _Nothing_."

"Well don't let me stop you _._ "

Kaoru hesitated, face slowly curling into expression that left wrinkles between his eyes, as he looked at the bright pink nail polish in his brother's hand.

"What're _you_ doing?"

"Nothing."

There was a long pause between them before both brothers decided to leave well enough alone and went their separate ways. Hikaru laying back down on the couch, gesturing to Haruhi to come back to him, and Kaoru, stopping up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

"I should go." She mumbled after awhile.

Watching search for her bag, Hikaru forced himself into a couching fit. "Ah! The heartburn's back!"

"Imagine that."

"I need a cold press. You should hold your hands to my chest again. That made it feel better."

"I'll call Miako. I'm sure she has cold hands."

He grumbled.


	19. Chapter 18

**My Muse**

Chapter 18

* * *

She felt like a duck, waddling through fox territory.

Walking the long halls of the building never had that affect on her before. _Sure_ , they were wide and towering, and always bustling with older men that looked at her funny, but those strong looks today were sending chills down her spine that made her legs numb.

She made a quick glance down at her watch, careful not to lose her stride. Hikaru had long since left his rightful place by her side nearly half an hour ago. He had a conference meeting today with the board members. As far as she knew, he wasn't apart of the board anymore, so he must be the center of conversation. And there was only one thing she could think of that they might want to talk to him about, and it made her sweat.

She'd tugged on his sleeve, jerking him back as she mumbled nervously into his ear, or, as close as she could get to it, hoping to god he didn't still have the flash drive in his pocket.

"There's no way they found out that fast," he grumbled back, and she almost said back that it's been _four days,_ but his new, too skinny for his own clothes a _ssistant_ , poked his head out of the door they stood in front of and meekly urged Hikaru away from her, by pointing out that his father was waiting for him and he was _ten minutes late._

"Better give it another half hour," he sighed. "Don't want them to think I'm _excited_ about this.

He looked back down at her at that, maybe thinking his joke was funny, but only ended up frowning, probably at the tensed look she could feel on her face, and cupped her cheek in his hand, wiping his thumb over her cheek.

"It'll be a little while," he said, mocking her pouted lip. "Will you wait for me?"

"What if Fujibayashi's in there?"

"Most Likely." He paused, then scoffed. "I don't need my big strong bodyguard _all_ the time."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

" _Don't_ worry," he scolded, as if it were that easy, before slipping his aviators off his face, and tenderly lifted her hand up to set them safely on her open palm.

"Sir!" His assistant squeaked, appearing inside the crack in the door again, holding his hands up, horrified that his boss's late time had exceeded the amount of his fingers. " _Fifteen_."

"I'm _coming,_ Ben." He almost snapped, before turning back to her again. "What kind of name is _Ben_ , _anyway?_ I hate that guy."

Ben whimpered a complaint from between the door and the door frame, and Hikaru rolled his eyes, and placed a swift kiss on her forehead before turning his back to her and disappearing into the conference room, but not before stating surely that he'll meet with her afterwards in his office.

Then he'd left her alone, and a sinking feeling replaced the butterflies in her stomach. It felt as though she were stuck in a cage, sunken deep inside a pull of sharks, and everyone she passed was ready to grab at her and tear her apart.

They didn't look at her like she was a lawyer. Or a bodyguard for the chairmen's son. They looked at her like a girl who didn't know left from right.

Not that she was helping her own case. She made it painfully obvious that she had no place here, once she walked right into the bulky shoulder of an executive, and timidly muttered an apology, bowing her head so low her head was level with his belt.

And he thought so little of her, that he didn't spare her more than a dry scoff, and dusted off his jacket, like she had gotten it dirty.

It was a humiliating. She hadn't felt this rejected by an entire community since high school. But even then, people had enough humility not to look at her like she was a dust mite stuck to their shoe.

She wasn't relieved of the thumping ache in her chest until she finally reached Hikaru's office clear across the building, Styrofoam cup in hand, full of water, too anxious for anymore caffeine.

But at least she was alone.

She'd spent so long wandering, lost but too nervous to ask for directions, that his meeting should be close to a conclusion by now, she figured, and decided to spend these last few minutes until he'd arrive, counting the quiet ticks of her watch, slumped into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

And almost jumped straight to her feet, like an excited puppy when the door finally creaked open, hoping for him to grumpily declare they were going home now.

"I hope I'm not imposing."

Her gut twisted, and she sunk as far as she could into her chair as Fujibayashi casually strolled into the room.

She didn't think she'd have to lock the door.

"I've been waiting for that Hitachiin to step away, so I could have the chance to talk to you alone." He said. His weirdly pleasant smile hanging onto every word. "He doesn't tend to share."

She looked down at ripples in her water, glaring at her own hands to stop them from shaking. "Is that so?"

"But can you blame me for being curious?" he asked, with a bit of a sigh, making the buttons of the blazer strain. "You've always got this look on your face like you're thinking an awful lot."

He started walking closer, and she tried to push her chair back to widen the gap between them, but it wouldn't budge.

Fujibayashi neared Hikaru's desk, eyes squinting behind his glasses, clearly looking for something.

He thumbed through a stack of papers that already hung so threateningly close to the edge. "I can tell you're a fascinating person to talk to."

Haruhi forced out a modest chuckle. "You give me too much credit."

"Oh no, please don't think of this as flattery," she didn't. "I'm far above that, but I've heard a lot about you. You're admirable, so I only speak out of genuine respect."

He's heard of her? Did Hikaru talk about her at work?

"I'll take the compliment then." That made him smirk.

She watched from the corner of her eye, as he opened one of the drawers, and started flipping through a graphed notepad with such mild interest it made her sweat.

"You went to Ouran academy as a scholarship student, and moved overseas on your own when you were just eighteen." Daichi cared enough to add, finding something curious enough that he ripped it's page out of the notepad and stuck the crumbled paper ball into his coat.

"That alone is enough to strike a conversation, but plenty of important people seem quite fond of you, that I really couldn't help wondering what was so special about you."

"I mean," he paused to look up at her, knowing from the look on his face that he knew she was watching as he stole a fancy pen from Hikaru's cup holder and tucked it neatly into his chest pocket, "not only are the _Hitachiin's_ taken with you. Kyoya _Ootori_ nearly bit the head off of my secretary for speaking ill of you."

Haruhi had to bite her tongue to stop herself from wanting to ask _how_ he knew Kyoya.

Then her steady train of thought was also distracted. Tracing his words back to the part about Kyoya defending her. _He still... remembers me?_

But that was a mistake, the moment her eyes left him, he lunged forward. His tall body towering above her head as he leaned forward. His hands latching onto the metal arms, trapping her between him and the crinkling faux leather.

She finally gasped, quickly finding out that the chair she'd been sitting on was a recliner, when he reached down and pulled something, and she fell back with a jerk. His knee parting her legs.

She felt her cup slip out of her hand, and the water splash on the floor.

"I know you snooped through things you weren't supposed to." Her eyes widened, thinking about the flash drive. "You saw those pictures, _didn't_ you?"

His knee kept her from closing her legs. She couldn't move, she couldn't shake her head _no_ , or think of a snappy comment that'd tell him _yes_ , that she had seen them. She couldn't even make her hands move, to her phone that she felt slip out of her skirt pocket. Hikaru _had_ to be finished with his conference now. He had to be on his way here any minute.

Her eyes flicked to the door he'd left wide open.

 _Somebody_ would have to.

"You're so smart, I can tell you've already figured well enough out." he growled under his breath, his face inching closer to make sure she could hear every word. "Just know, that if those pictures show up in court, I'll see it as a personal attack on not just _me_ , but the whole company, so you'd better keep your mouth shut."

He was about to pull away, until he saw anger flicker across her face. "So I was right," She finally breathed. "You're _abusing_ her."

"That's an awful thing to say - I love her."

"You're _sick_."

Something unreadable flashed across the muscles in his cheeks. His top lip twitched then the chair jerked, giving no time for her to react before his hand flew to throat, forcing her head into the plush of the chair.

His hand felt like ice as his fingers closed in around her pulse. His grip not tight enough to cut off her air completely, but tight enough to restrict it until her eyes started to water. She fought back instinctively, her nails digging into his wrist, but her hand was too small, too scared, that it didn't do much but leave tiny dents, in the shape of her nails.

She squinted to see yet if anyone was standing in the doorway. She wasn't about to scream for help, but Hikaru's office was so far down a dead end hallway, she doubted anyone would hear if she did.

"You don't know anything _about_ me." he hissed, close to her face, in almost a whisper, tightening his grip on her until she opened her mouth in a fruitless gasp. "I don't care _who_ you are. I don't care if you've managed to slither your miserable way into all the cracks and have the entire Suoh empire wrapped around your finger. I've worked too hard here just to have some filthy strumpet come out of nowhere and have me thrown under the bus."

"I really do want the best for Hikaru and the company," his tone changed as he added helplessly. "We have different views on _the best_ , you and I, _clearly_ , but say we find common ground-"

"You've never known what's best for _anybody._ " She strained, making him raise his brow. "I've _met_ men like you. We call them _psychopaths_."

"Not true," he said simply, so close she could smell the stale hint of nicotine on his breath. _Fuck_ she hated that stuff. "In fact, I know what'd be best for _you_."

"While you're laying back, sucking his dick, I'll be making everything he's ever known into a living fucking nightmare, so you'd better stay the hell out of my business."

A lot of difficult things were running through her head, mainly, all of the worst possible torments he could possibly pull Hikaru through, but still trapped in a vulnerable position, she was afraid to ask _what_ and instead, only managed a horrified whisper, face turning a pale pink, "We're not _like_ that."

"I'm in luck then."

He closed the gap between them, lowering his chest against her until she really couldn't move. - She couldn't tell him to stop. She tilted her face away and started to kick, but hitting his shin only made his other hand clamp down painfully on her knee to hold her still, before she got a face full of his scratchy beard as he pressed his mouth to her lips.

The familiar sense of dread sent her heart spiraling, but her sudden cry only hummed between their lips as he swallowed the last breath she was able to force out. She couldn't breath from her nose; she'd rather lose consciousness than inhale anymore of the stench from his last cigarette.

She squeezed her eyes shut. feeling the cupid's bow of her lip tingle as he swiped his tongue along it, painstakingly slow, and sank nearly all the way into the crease of the chair until he eventually pulled away, and his hand finally loosened it's grip.

"It'd also be best for you to keep this just between us." He lent down to get one final whiff of her hair. "I don't think either one of us cares for a scandal."

He left her there, behind a closed door, with a chill and a bad taste in her mouth.

* * *

Nearly two hours had passed before the conference was dismissed, and you would have thought he was a caged lion breathing fresh air for the first time the way he stumbled out into the hallway before anyone else had the chance to stand up from their seats.

But that didn't compare to the intensity of his stride as he made his way towards the main lobby, coming from his office, with Haruhi's phone tucked safely in the hidden pocket inside his blazer. And every time it thumped against his chest, with every stiff jerk of his leg, he imagined him pounding his fist into Fujibayashi's fat ugly nose.

There was no sign of Haruhi besides her phone that he found stuck inside the recliner in his office after he'd tried to call her. Of course he didn't have any realistic reason to think why he would do anything to her, but it was too much of a coincidence that Fujibayashi excused himself during the first quarter of the meeting and never came back, and now Haruhi was nowhere to be found.

And there was plenty of choice reasons why he could be pissed at him. And what could be the easiest form of payback than targeting his Haruhi. She made a easy target. She was so small, and all alone.

But there was no reason he'd have any animosity towards her, unless-

 _No_. There was no way he'd found out she was on his laptop that day. He wasn't even at work then. And he was watching her the _whole time_. No one was following her. Much less saw her enter that room, besides his father.

No. Stupid. Of _course_ Fujibayashi knew it was him. He knew damn well he had that stupid project on his computer and who's fault would it be if it and everything else suddenly vanished. He knew he took it. Even if he never else left his car. And what better way to get back at him than _Haruhi._

 _Because_ she was small, and sweet, and perfect and all alone.

 _Stupid._ He should've never involved her that day, trying to get his stupid project back. He should've never involved her with him. He should never have let her out of his sight.

 _What were you thinking._

A sink feeling crept up to his stomach and it made his teeth grit and his legs go numb. He barely stayed on his feet as he cut the corner into the lobby and was thrown back after ramming into someone else's shoulder.

Because as if he spoke for the fucking devil - there he was.

"Would you watch where you're going? You're like a damn bulldozer." Daichi almost shouted, checking the front of his shirt to see if he'd spilled his coffee, and Hikaru had to fight the urge to not grab him by his collar and choke him with his own tie.

"Where's Haruhi?" he demanded.

"How am I supposed to know?" Fujibayashi said. "Keep track of your women."

"You were with her just now," He snapped, accusingly. "What did you say to her?"

"Do you really want to go there?" he said, in warning, as he felt Hikaru's hand latch onto his arm. "When I could have the police banging on your front door before tomorrow morning for all the things _you've_ done? Don't accuse me."

Hikaru's expression faltered. Just a little. And he was able to ripped himself free from his fist.

"That's what I _thought_."

But before Fujibayashi could step around him, his arm lashed out for the front of his blazer and yanked him forward, making him stumble forward, until their noses were less than a hand's length apart. "If you put your hands on her, you better hope to god I don't find you and break every bone in your pathetic body."

"Are you _threatening_ me?"

Hikaru shook his head, to tell himself not to say anything else. He didn't have the breath to waste on him anymore.

He shoved him away, leaving a wrinkle in his jacket. He had to get away from him. He couldn't look at his face anymore, or else he'd want to rearrange it, and he had to find Haruhi. But he continued before he could even turn his back.

"Bitch isn't worth my time anyway."

He turned back, and suddenly went blind. He didn't know what he was thinking, and his arm was moving like a reflex. His hand reached out and snatched the coffee cup sitting loosely under his fingers and threw it across the room. It made the many onlookers look their way in shock as the coffee made a puddle on the floor.

But Daichi only frowned. "You're making a scene."

" _Fuck off_."

Then he finally walked away, watching everyone else make a path for him as they scrambled out of his way, desperate not to be his next victim, and he could feel their eyes burning holes into his back.

And on that note, Hikaru left through the front doors of Ito-Co for the last time.


End file.
